


Etched Into My Skin

by anxioussquirrel



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-11
Updated: 2014-08-30
Packaged: 2018-02-16 18:53:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 89,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2280849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anxioussquirrel/pseuds/anxioussquirrel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Across the world, names start appearing on people's bodies; it hasn't become a big news item yet, and no one really knows what they mean. Some time after Kurt transfers to Dalton, while he and Blaine are still platonic, they both wake up with their best friend's name written somewhere on their body in the other's handwriting. Soulmates AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The first time Kurt Hummel noticed anything strange about his left collarbone, it was the day after that memorable afternoon in the Dalton common room when he and Blaine had sung the most perfect version of  _Baby It's Cold Outside_ that could ever exist.

He was sitting at his vanity, finishing his evening moisturizing routine, when something unfamiliar drew his attention to the open collar of his black pajama shirt. A light brown spot was only really visible because of the good lighting and the contrast with his fair skin, and he could have easily dismissed it as a new freckle or a mole he hadn't noticed before, if he hadn't moved the fabric aside to have a closer look.

There, next to the first innocent-looking spot, were at least a dozen others – just as light, ranging from small to tiny and neatly spaced within a spread of skin.

They _could_ be freckles – if it was summer and Kurt hadn't been so conscientious about applying sunblock. Or if they weren't grouped so tightly together in one particular area. To be certain, Kurt slid off his pajamas and scanned the rest of his body, looking for similar occurrences anywhere else, but there were none, just that one place right under the ridge of his left collarbone. That was definitely unusual; probably something to consult with a doctor, and soon. Suspicious brown spots on the skin that appeared all of a sudden were no laughing matter.

Kurt's mind was filled with anxious thoughts that night, and his fingers wandered to the collarbone again and again as he was trying to fall asleep. The skin there wasn't any different to touch than the surrounding area, and it wasn't sore or itching. Still, the freckles – or whatever it was – were there, while just last night there was nothing but smooth skin. He'd seen them with his own eyes.

Unless...

He jumped out of bed and flicked on his vanity lamp. Of course, why hadn't he thought of this? Grabbing a moist toilette, he rubbed at the affected bit of flesh. But the spots didn't disappear – if anything, they only looked more pronounced against the skin that turned pink from his ministrations.

Resigned and slightly scared, Kurt returned to bed. He'd have to show the problem to Carole in the morning. Ever since the wedding, she'd taken over the health department in their household. She'd probably set a doctor's appointment for him, and whatever it turned out to be, they'd take things from there. For now, all he could do was try to sleep.

Kurt's dreams that night were filled with visions of hospitals and surgeries, scars and fear, the words _skin cancer_ hanging overhead, threatening. He woke up at dawn, exhausted, and lay in bed for a moment longer, huffing with annoyance. He was probably overreacting, and the fact that he had more reasons than many, after seeing his mom wither away all those years ago, didn't make it any more reasonable. Now, in the light of day, it seemed stupid to worry quite so much. They were just a bunch of stupid spots, probably some allergic reaction or a weird rash. Nothing serious.

Kurt rolled out of bed and strode right to the mirror, determined to confirm his newfound conviction. He pushed aside the shirt – and froze, his jaw dropping.

There were no spots on his skin anymore.

Instead, light brown lines traced neat letters under his collarbone – letters that spelled one very, _very_ familiar name, in handwriting that he recognized instantly, even in its mirrored reflection.

_Blaine Anderson_

__

***

The first time Blaine Anderson noticed the faint letters curving around his left hipbone, it was two days after Christmas and he was just wiping come off his skin.

He was still dazed and breathless from the intensity of his orgasm, so when he saw what the letters spelled, he just shook his head and closed his eyes, wondering if it was possible he was hallucinating as a result of coming his brains out. Because let's be honest, what was the chance of the name of his best friend randomly appearing on his body right after he finally surrendered to the temptation and let his mind wander where it probably shouldn't – to said friend's pink lips and his slender fingers, to the perfect lines of his long legs and the way his shoulders filled the regulatory white uniform shirts?

Another moment passed with sleep softening the edges of his consciousness, but then Blaine frowned. Wait, what was the chance of _any_ writing randomly appearing on his skin when he – or anyone else – didn't put it there?

He opened his eyes and raised on his elbows to look at his hipbone. Sure enough, the letters were still there, sepia-colored and curling neatly along the upper half of his hipbone.

_Kurt Hummel_

What was even more curious, they were in Kurt's own handwriting – it looked as if Kurt simply signed his name on Blaine's skin. Except in the last week the nearest Kurt had been to Blaine was in his very vivid imagination. And even if he was right here, his hands would be nowhere near Blaine's bare hips. They were just friends, after all.

What the hell was going on?

***

Google was a man's best friend.

It was merely an hour since Kurt had discovered the name – _Blaine's_ name – on his skin, and already he was more grateful for the miracle of the internet than ever before. A quick, rather desperate search of "names on skin" didn't provide him with a definitive answer about what was going on with him or why, but it gave him something almost as good: the knowledge that he wasn't alone. Apparently, there were people all over the globe suddenly sprouting names in different areas of their bodies, and their numbers were steadily growing.

The few serious articles Kurt managed to find among dozens of blog posts and discussion threads claimed that the phenomenon started about five months ago. At first it was only a few dozen reported cases, not just in the United States, but in other countries, too. Doctors and scientists got interested and soon research started, aimed to discover the cause and consequences of the unusual marks.

But the only thing that had been determined so far was that the writing didn't seem to affect people's skin or their overall health in any detrimental way. The letters weren't formed by any kind of growth, either malicious or benign, but by a simple change of pigmentation, very similar to freckles. The writing tended to grow slightly darker within days of first appearing, but only by a tone or two, which made it clearly visible against skin, but much lighter than a tattoo. No one knew how or why the marks formed, or what made a body produce the shape of a particular name. It was all one big mystery.

As for the meaning of the names, the scientists were drawing a blank. It was more a question for philosophers, it seemed. What could be the reason of random names appearing on people's skin? Theories abounded, each less believable than the previous one. Some believed it was a name you held in your previous incarnation. Others stated the name signified a person who could play important role in your life. Many people thought it was a completely random occurrence, an annoying skin condition that had no significance whatsoever.

Except the names weren't always random. As the number of those affected kept growing (it was currently estimated to be well into the thousands), there were some who, just like Kurt, were developing names of people they knew. It could be a life partner or a friend, or someone known just casually. This fact bred other theories, stating that the name on your body belonged to a person who was somehow closest to you – either in your thoughts or physical proximity – when the mark formation started. Or it may signify someone you had or could have a deep emotional connection with.

This theory spoke to Kurt the most. He did have a connection with Blaine, after all – and deeper than his friend knew. Because while he admitted it to himself, he was nowhere near ready to tell Blaine, or show him, for that matter, that he was falling in love with him – and had been from the moment they first met.

Kurt switched off his computer and went back to the mirror. Now that the mark was no longer filling him with dread, he had to admit it was almost... pretty. The warm shade of brown looked good against his fair skin and knowing that he bore the name of the boy he really, really liked mere inches above his heart filled Kurt with warm affection.

Whatever the reason and meaning of the mark, one thing was certain: he wouldn't be showing it to anyone, or even talking about it anytime soon. Not even to his family or his friends. There would be too many questions and the last thing he needed was for Blaine to learn about it and freak out. He was the closest friend Kurt had ever had, the only person in his life who really, truly understood him. Losing that just because Kurt's body decided to pick up some weird new trend was too big a risk.

No, he'd just wait and see what happened next.


	2. Chapter 2

It was almost Christmas – the first Christmas they would be spending with Carole and Finn – and there was plenty to do at the Hummel-Hudson household. Everything had to be perfect. But even as Kurt threw himself into shopping, decorating and planning the heart-healthy Christmas menu with Carole, he found his thoughts returning to Blaine again and again. True, it was nothing new for him to think of Blaine multiple times throughout the day, but usually being busy put a stop to this. This time, however, the thoughts seemed to be coming out of nowhere. Suddenly Kurt was enveloped in a mist of warm feelings in the middle of the dairy aisle at the supermarket, or spacing out with tinsel in his hand, or blushing when Finn came in and innocently stated that it was cold outside.

Damn, he really needed to get himself under control. It was just because of the fresh mark on his skin. He couldn't forget about it for a minute, fingers sneaking up to touch it through the fabric of his shirt so often that Carole finally asked if there was something wrong with his shoulder.

It felt almost creepy in a way, like having a tattoo of your crush's name done secretly, without asking for their permission. Of course, Kurt would never do that, and he couldn't be held responsible for what his body came up with by itself, could he? But the very awareness of the mark sitting there just like that, hidden and innocent, was making his heart beat faster. Add in the very fresh memories of that duet in the Dalton common room, with Blaine's eyes so sparkly and his lovely lips so close, the flirty atmosphere of the song permeating the air, and – well, Kurt really had a hard time not thinking about his best friend.

His distractedness didn't escape his family's attentive eye, so in the end he faked a headache and escaped to his bedroom as soon as the dishes were done after dinner. He spent the rest of the evening trying to find something to watch that wouldn't make him think of Blaine.

It proved impossible.

He took another long look at the name on his skin as he was undressing for the night. It was still there, of course, and already it was slightly darker, the edges of each letter more defined, final. Kurt brushed his fingertips over the mark and smiled.

 

The night that followed was weird. Of course, it was only natural that he dreamt of Blaine when he spent so much time during the day thinking about him, but those were dreams unlike any he'd ever had before. They were eerily realistic and strangely plot-less – just a montage of short, silent flashes, all starring him and Blaine. What was even stranger was that Kurt remembered them vividly upon waking up. They didn't disappear or even fade from his memory the way dreams tend to do when he got up and proceeded through his morning routine. Even as he stood under the spray of hot water in the shower, the pictures from the dream were still flashing before his closed eyes:

_He and Blaine singing together on a stage, both in Dalton uniforms, eyes trained on each other, with the rest of the Warblers in the background._

_Sitting opposite each other in Lima Bean, sans uniforms this time, Blaine's face full of so much affection that Kurt's heart fluttered every time he recalled the scene._

_Laughing together on a blanket spread on the grass, the sun high and bright, Kurt's head in Blaine's lap._

_Sitting next to each other in the McKinley choir room, an adorable bowtie around Blaine's neck, their hands joined and resting on Kurt's thigh like it was the most natural thing in the world._

_Dancing together at what looked like prom, close and unafraid among other people, Blaine's hair ridiculously curly and tickling Kurt's cheek as he leaned closer to brush a soft kiss against the side of Kurt's neck – a kiss that even now, in the light of day, made Kurt shiver as he recalled it._

God, he was in over his head, wasn't he? It had never been this bad before, not even with Finn. His brain was out to torment him, not letting him forget about Blaine even for a moment and conjuring fantasies that were so real and detailed there was no chance he'd get them out of his head. Already it felt awkward to text Blaine like he usually did every day – innocent, friendly chatting that now felt too suggestive, too revealing, like every word could somehow tell his friend:  _hey, I've got your name on my skin and vivid pictures of us as a couple in my head_.

So he didn't text all day, but it only made things worse when Blaine called him in the evening, innocently asking if Kurt was mad at him for some reason. The way his voice seemed to slide right down Kurt's spine in a warm caress, causing a delicious shiver, was new, too.

It was  _ridiculous_. And very hot. And frustrating as hell.

Kurt figured it would pass, he just needed a few days. Obviously his imagination, vivid to begin with, got too excited by the mark on his skin.

Except days passed, Christmas came and went, and the dreams persisted like the mark on his body. It wasn't like that first night, but every morning there were at least a few new pictures to add to his collection. Kurt's favorite so far was the shortest glimpse of the two of them lying on a bed together, fully dressed minus a few outer layers, so close their foreheads and noses touched. His hand was on Blaine's shoulder and Blaine's on his wrist, and there was a look of deep, quiet contentment on both of their faces. It made him blush, the way his fantasies seemed to gravitate towards intimacy, but it felt like such a beautiful moment. Which wasn't all that strange – of course his imagination would create pictures that were perfectly suited for Kurt's romantic mind.

And then, two days after Christmas, around midnight, another strange thing occurred, jarring him out of half-asleep bliss in the warm cocoon of the comforter.

Suddenly, without warning, Kurt's loose, relaxed body tensed and his back arched off the bed, an explosion of pleasure shooting through his belly, so intense he moaned loud and shameless before hastily biting on his knuckles to muffle the rest of the sounds. His hips kept canting up into the comforter, the delightful heat pulsing for a long while before he started coming down, his body tingling all over.

God, what  _was_  that?

No, okay, he knew exactly what it was. It wasn't like he'd never had an orgasm before, though probably never quite that intense but... how? Why? He hadn't touched himself, hadn't been turned on. He hadn't even been thinking of anything sexy, not even Blaine, for god's sake. Well,  _now_ he was, and ugh, he was turning into a creepy, creepy person. His cock ached at the thought and –

What?

Now that the dazed feeling gave way to more or less clear thinking, Kurt realized that he was hard, straining against the fabric of his pajama pants. His  _dry_  pajama pants, no telltale wet spots detected. So... it was an orgasm, but... not? How was that possible? He'd never heard about anything like that before. Then again, it wasn't like he read or talked about sex that much.

It took a long time to fall asleep that night, especially since he refused to take care of his raging erection in any way other than willing it away. He drew a line at jerking off to the images of Blaine in his head. He wouldn't be  _that guy_ , dammit.

Of course, his imagination decided to punish him for that, and when he finally fell asleep, Kurt's dreams were filled with Blaine's lips and his hands, with kisses and casual touches that turned into not-that-casual, that turned into a flash of Blaine on his knees, reaching to undo the buttons of Kurt's fly with dark, hooded eyes and red, kiss-swollen lips.

Kurt woke up a very,  _very_ frustrated boy the next morning.


	3. Chapter 3

If Blaine thought that giving in to the temptation would finally stop the steady stream of persistent, half-chaste thoughts about Kurt, he was sorely mistaken. He fell asleep thinking about Kurt, only to  _dream_ about Kurt and woke up flushed, overheated and panting, because those dreams? They were nowhere  _near_ chaste. In fact, some bits were as erotic as they could get without being pornographic, not to mention so realistic that he still felt a little dazed with the intensity of it.

How exactly did his imagination know the exact shape – and _feel –_ of Kurt's ass in his tightest pants, when Blaine had never really allowed himself to look? How did it come up with the breathtaking visions of Kurt's face as he was slowly falling apart, Blaine's hand stroking him through the thick denim of those pants? It was too much to know, even just from a dream, what Kurt's lips would taste like, how soft and warm they would be against his, and how they would feel, and look, wrapped around Blaine's –

Oh god, he needed a cold shower, STAT. 

It was halfway through rolling out of bed when he remembered the mark from last night. A little apprehensive, he pushed down the waist of his pajama pants – and there it was. Undeniably real, even darker now, in the light of day, and completely, unbelievably confusing.

It was way too early to try to understand what it meant, though, and seeing Kurt's name bold and clear on his skin like this suddenly made the need for that shower even more immediate. He'd cool off, grab something to eat and fuel his brain up with caffeine, and then he'd analyze the situation properly. Because let's be honest, it needed to be properly analyzed _before_ the coffee date with Kurt that night.

 

Two hours later Blaine was sitting in front of his laptop, deep in research. He'd scanned through a few articles about "the Names plague" at first, and sure, it was good to know he was not alone in his predicament or going to die because of it, but his questions remained unanswered. Why Kurt's name? Why right now, and in this particular place on his body? What did it mean?

He kept searching, reading through blog entries, tumblr posts and discussion boards. He looked at pictures of dozens of names, located anywhere from shoulder blades to ankles to inner thighs and everywhere in between, on young skin or older, fair to dark. Boys names, girls names, long and short, scrawled or beautifully calligraphed, all sharing the same spectrum of brown color and the origin. But seeing other people's marks, and reading about how or when they appeared, didn't really explain much. No one seemed to have the answers Blaine wanted.

And then, on one of the few Names-related discussion boards he found, he spotted a thread that looked promising.

It was a multiple-page-long discussion about a possible connection between the marks and physical or sexual attraction. The users most active in the thread were all among those who carried names of people they knew, in one way or another. There was a (somewhat sleazy) middle-aged married man who had a name of his kids' sexy young nanny on his shoulder, a college girl who had been hiding a name of a boy from one of her classes under scarves and turtlenecks for months now, and a thirty-year-old single woman who insisted she was _totally straight_ except for the strong attraction to her best girl friend, whose name had just appeared on her breast a few weeks ago. There were a few others, too, and all of them shared one important detail: they had been fantasizing about the person whose name had appeared on their skin even before it happened.

That was what pushed Blaine to read through the dozens of posts, even though he was feeling more uneasy with every passing minute. Okay, his little fantasy last night was ridiculously tame compared to some of what he read the others entertain, but he _had_ gotten off to it, hadn't he? And he had been crushing on Kurt and thinking about him constantly for weeks now, and more than ever since they'd flirted their way through that duet in the common room before Christmas.

Not that Blaine only saw Kurt in a sexual context – far from it. In fact, physical attraction was only part of the reason Blaine couldn't stop thinking about his best friend. But it _was_ part of it, one that couldn't be turned off or separated from the emotional layer of their connection. And the one time Blaine let himself act on it was exactly when his mark appeared. So wasn't it obvious that it had to be somehow related?

And if it was... God, Blaine would have to make sure Kurt never learned about it. After his ordeal with bullying and, most of all, the Karofsky incident, the last thing Kurt needed was knowing that Blaine – the one person he fully trusted with this – couldn't stop thinking about him as so much more than a platonic friend.

No, Kurt couldn't know, and therefore no one else could, either. Good thing Blaine's mark was in a well-hidden place.

There were some other things he learned from reading through the discussion – things that made him suddenly nervous about seeing Kurt in mere hours. Apparently, after the name appeared, the attraction to that particular person rapidly grew, which seemed to confirm the sex-related nature of it. There was supposed to be a certain pull, a need to be close, to touch, and the way the body reacted to the proximity was said to be strengthened, too.

Great. As if he hadn't had enough trouble keeping his crush to himself already.

For a moment Blaine considered calling off the coffee date, but he dismissed the idea quickly. He missed Kurt too much. Heart pounding – which was ridiculous, he texted Kurt all the time – he picked up his phone to confirm their meeting in Lima Bean.

***

Kurt really shouldn't feel so nervous. Coffee dates with Blaine were something so familiar it felt like they'd been doing it forever and not just over a month. On any given day, the smell of coffee and the sight of Blaine's smile across the coffeeshop would be enough to make Kurt relax immediately.

Not today.

He blamed the fact that they hadn't seen each other for a week – the longest since they'd first met – but as he was walking to their table, Kurt knew he was lying to himself. The real reason was hidden under three layers of undeniably fabulous clothing, which did nothing to alleviate the feeling like he was naked, like one glance at him would tell Blaine his secret, in all of its mortifying extent.

It didn't help that seeing Blaine here, at their usual table, brought to mind pictures from his dreams – of Blaine at the same table on different occasions, in different outfits, with expressions that varied from amused to interested to serious, but always included what Kurt had already secretly dubbed as _the heart eyes_ ; something that the real Blaine in front of him was very noticeably missing. Kurt knew perfectly well those were figments of his imagination, just fantasies born from his budding feelings toward Blaine. But his heart refused to get the memo, and that made all the difference. He felt an overwhelming need to run up to his friend, pull him up into a hug and kiss him right there.

God, he needed to get a grip. It was just Blaine. And just another of their usual coffee dates. As _just_ friends.

Years of practicing his _game face_ in the McKinley corridors proved extremely useful now as Kurt settled opposite Blaine to chat happily about their Christmas break. It wasn't like he didn't want to show that he was glad to see Blaine – he had truly missed him. But his emotions seemed to be completely out of control today, his thoughts and reactions all over the place, and it took every bit of restraint not to let too much show on his face or in his voice. And even then some of it must have leaked through somehow because Blaine kept looking at him strangely every now and then, his eyes wide and inquiring, as if he was trying to understand what got into Kurt.

And then their hands brushed as they reached for their coffee at the same time, and it was nothing, just a most innocent, fleeting touch like many they'd shared before, and yet–

Kurt was aware that he gasped softly; he was aware of Blaine's shocked expression and the way he withdrew his hand quickly, as if burned, but all that got drowned in the sudden, tingly warmth coursing up his arm from the point of contact. It felt strange and wonderful, and unlike anything he'd ever experienced before. If he were to compare it to anything, it would be like coming home from a winter walk with your hands cold, and getting to warm them up by the fireplace, or on a cup of hot cocoa handed to you by a loved one – only in this case in happened in a fast, steady wave, radiating from his knuckles where the tips of Blaine's fingers had brushed. It made him feel content and relaxed, and, somehow... whole.

Was it yet another weird side effect of the mark, like the persistent dreams?

It took Kurt what felt like a very long moment, almost long enough for the warmth to dissipate completely, to get over the shock. One look at Blaine's face was enough to make him lose any hope that he may have somehow missed Kurt's attack of crazy. Blaine seemed bewildered, his brow furrowed as he bit on his lower lip, clearly wondering. But he didn't ask. He just smiled, shook his head as if to clear it and went right back to trying to convince Kurt to give up the New Year's party with his McKinley friends and come to the Warblers' celebration instead.

Nothing seemed to have changed, not on the surface at least, and yet, as Kurt was driving home an hour later, he was absolutely certain Blaine must have seen right through him. Not to the mark – that was impossible – but deep enough to realize that Kurt had feelings for him, and not of the platonic variety. And the fact that Blaine said nothing about it, didn't ask or comment or anything, was a pretty clear message: he wasn't interested.

Well, at least he didn't freak out. _Don't ask, don't tell_ then. Oh well. Kurt could live with that.

***

The meeting in Lima Bean proved that Blaine was in more trouble than he expected. It turned out the effect Kurt had on him now was almost unbearably strengthened, to the point where merely sharing the same table and talking made everything thrum under Blaine's skin with the need to reach out and touch, and then never stop touching. It felt as if the presence of the mark on his skin caused everything else to be filtered out, leaving Blaine's senses and his thoughts overwhelmed with pure, undiluted _Kurt_.

It was the sweetest kind of torture.

And the shock of Kurt's touch – like a low, steady current of pure bliss – made him jerk his hand away like a fool. It was silly, and probably the least subtle thing he could have done, as he realized belatedly, seeing Kurt's stunned expression – but it was better than the alternative. Because Blaine was about half a second from grabbing Kurt's hand with both of his and pulling him closer, right into his lap, so that he could hide his face in the crook of Kurt's neck and suck on his skin, and slip his hands under all of Kurt's numerous, well-fitted layers to feel as much bare skin as physically possible without undressing.

So really, coming off strange was ultimately a much better option.

Of course – he realized on his way home as the Kurt-induced fog slowly lifted from his brain – all of this meant his life was going to get much harder really soon. Kurt decided to celebrate New Year's in Lima after all, so they wouldn't meet again for a few more days, but once they were back to school, everything needed to change. Unless his newly-acquired reactions were just a one-time thing, which he doubted, there was no way Blaine would be able to touch Kurt anymore, or stand close to him, or talk about anything remotely intimate. Or watch him eat. Or see him pronounce Blaine's name, with that bright smile and a peek of his wet, pink tongue around the lilt of the _L_. Or–

Oh fuck, he was _so_ screwed.

And yet, it was infinitely better than pulling away from Kurt and avoiding him. He couldn't do that, no matter what.

He would manage. Things would work out. He vaguely remembered reading that the effects of the mark were strongest at the beginning (but how long was that?) and/or if you were intimate with the person whose name you had on your skin (which he didn't see happening anytime soon – or, probably, ever). Well, there were also rumors about your body going particularly crazy if the other person had _your_ mark on their body, but that was so rare it was almost unheard of among the reported cases. Either way, side effects or not, Blaine was not going to let his weird _condition_ ruin his friendship with Kurt.

He'd just have to tough it out.


	4. Chapter 4

In the end, things did work out. They still spent as much time together as they had before, at school and outside of it, talking incessantly, joking around, singing. The only thing that really changed was the physical distance Blaine took care to keep between them now. No more squishing together on a sofa during Warblers practice, no more hugs or shoulder bumps, or patting Kurt's knee.

It felt weird at first, but Kurt quickly picked up Blaine's new aloof ways and played along, never commenting on it once. It hurt to see sadness in his eyes sometimes, when Blaine didn't quite catch himself in time and aborted a fond gesture mid-air to avoid straightening Kurt's collar or brushing invisible dust off his lapel – but really, it was all for the better; better for Kurt.

It was difficult though – _so_ difficult, to be in Kurt's presence, in the persistent pull that was like a magnetic field surrounding him, and hold onto the control all the time. Blaine still woke up every morning with new pictures of Kurt in his mind, still got hard just from thinking about him whenever he let his mind wander. He promised himself he wouldn't jerk off to those thoughts, and he really tried, focusing on random scenes he'd seen in porn instead when he got himself off every morning, just so that he could survive another day of constant temptation. But sometimes, late at night or at the weekend, when he was exhausted or half-asleep – sometimes he slipped. He always came hardest then, with Kurt's name on his lips, muffled by the pillow or his own hand.

Still, the need to control his every move, the constant struggle with himself, the sexual tension with no actual relief in sight – it was exhausting, and by the end of January, school wasn't enough of a distraction anymore. He needed something else, something to occupy his mind and keep it from obsessing.

What he needed, he decided, was a new romantic interest – someone he could actually date and kiss and touch, someone to think and fantasize about without feeling guilty.

It was the only way if he was to remain a good friend for Kurt. Because with the way things were going, the way he was slipping lately, drawing too close, letting his hands touch sometimes (and yes, the buzzy heat was still there, every time), he might just snap one day and attempt to ravish Kurt. Or at least kiss him. And that would be the worst thing he could do. Kurt had been assaulted with a kiss once. The last thing he needed was a repeat, and from his best friend at that.

So Blaine opened himself up to the possibility of falling in love with someone who wasn't Kurt. He went so far as actively looking around, and it didn't take long until he met Jeremiah.

He was older – a college student, attractive and so very approachable. He had an easy smile and dozens of conversation topics at the ready, all simple and safe, fascinating even when they revolved around college life. What was best, though, was the attraction. It was not overwhelming, and there was nothing to make Blaine's hands itch and his mouth go dry – well, not more than any other attractive boy had before the mark appeared.

They'd just met for coffee twice so far, but they _could_ do a lot more, and that was a huge part of the appeal. Blaine _could_ imagine Jeremiah kissing him – hell, touching him, undressing even – with no guilt gnawing at his insides whatsoever. It was refreshing, exactly what he needed, and it made dealing with his feelings for Kurt so much easier.

And now Valentine's Day was approaching, and Blaine hoped it would be when Jeremiah asked him out for a _real_ date at last, one that would end with a proper kiss. The mere thought made him giddy. He just needed to signal his interest, make sure Jeremiah understood that Blaine was open to more than just being friends. And what better way than in song? He could even ask his Warbler friends to help him.

Oh, this would be _grand_.

***

It took some time to get used to the new dynamics between them, but as it definitely beat the alternative of having Blaine avoid him completely, Kurt was glad to take what he was given. It wasn't so different from what they'd had before – the easy friendship, the understanding, the care for each other – minus the casual touches that Kurt had finally gotten used to just weeks before. And on one hand it was a relief – being around Blaine was intense enough even without the effect his touch had on Kurt (and yes, he'd checked a few more times, just the tiniest bits of contact, and the tingly warmth was there without fail). But on the other hand, if he was being honest, Kurt had to admit he craved Blaine's closeness and his touch more than ever before.

He'd never been a particularly tactile person, and he'd been keeping to himself for years now, almost every touch directed at him bringing hurt, not comfort or a caress. It left him even more hesitant to reach out. And he'd been fine with it, really; proud to say he didn't need the physical closeness. Of course, at the back of his mind there was always hope, a thought that it would be nice to have that, one day. But even his crush on Finn, and then Blaine, used to be all about pure feelings, not physical intimacy.

Used to. Before the mark. Because now... now Blaine's closeness, the warmth of his skin under Kurt's fingertips, the flutter of pulse in his exposed neck, his scent – sometimes it was all Kurt could think about, and it felt shockingly new and overwhelming and so, _so_ good.

Still, he refused to let his newfound urges rule over him, and definitely not in the most ultimate way where he would deliberately fantasize about his best friend while... taking care of his (ever-growing, it seemed) needs. If he couldn't distract himself any longer, he would take care of business quickly and efficiently, without really thinking about anything (or anyone) in particular. It was just physiology, after all, his teen hormones apparently kicking in at last. But that was no reason to drag Blaine into this part of his life, not even by allowing himself to think about him in an intimate context. Kurt would never be able to look him in the eye again if he did.

Besides, it almost didn't matter that whenever he got off like that, it was okay at best, granting him more relief than pleasure, really, because sooner or later another one of those weird non-orgasms would come, leaving him shaky and gasping for air, a boneless puddle of blissed out boy with his nerve endings firing off like crazy. It didn't happen often after that first time – two, sometimes three times a week, and thankfully always when Kurt was alone in his room – but when it did happen, it made him hope that whatever caused them would never stop.

Of course, with Blaine so obviously aware of Kurt's crush and trying to be gentle about it, avoiding anything remotely suggestive that could look like leading him on – awkward moments were bound to come. And Kurt was used to hiding his feelings and behaving in a non-threatening way, but what was viewed as neutral and ignored by straight boys, did not go unnoticed by his gay best friend.

He could see how uncomfortable it made Blaine when he sucked the melted chocolate off his fingers once, or nibbled at the end of his pencil when they studied together, and while those were by no means attempts at seduction, Kurt understood they could be read that way and was careful not to do it again. But he couldn't avoid applying chapstick (it was winter, after all!) or bending to pick up his bag from the floor (although he did try to do it while seated now, after Blaine almost choked on his coffee once). And drinking a milkshake at lunch was really quite impossible without, well, sucking on the straw – the shakes in Dalton cafeteria tended to be really thick, and also really delicious. Sometimes Kurt just couldn't resist, which always made Blaine blush and flail a little before quickly turning away to talk to someone else.

The whole situation was frustrating and Kurt even stretched out of his comfort zone to prepare a speech, and managed to begin delivering it one afternoon when he was alone with Blaine in the senior commons. He just needed his friend to know that none of it was on purpose, that he understood Blaine wasn't interested in anything more than friendship, and he respected that – but he didn't get to say it because Blaine quickly changed the topic, his cheeks flushed and his hands tightly fisted, creasing the fabric of his pants.

It sucked, because so far they'd always been honest with each other and could talk about anything, no matter how awkward. Kurt had told Blaine about Karofsky, and his silly crush on Finn with all the embarrassing details. And Blaine understood and didn't judge, just teased him about it gently enough to make him blush and laugh and forget about his discomfort.

But apparently things were different when it was personal.

Still, even with the distance and the occasional awkwardness and the topics they never touched, it was fine, and by February it was even better than fine because it looked like Blaine was beginning to get comfortable around Kurt again. He was still Kurt's best friend and not just the boy Kurt was hopelessly, uncontrollably in love with.

And then... then he was suddenly Kurt's best friend who was in love with a junior manager at GAP, and he was standing there, bashful and happy and star-eyed, cheerfully requesting the Warblers help him serenade the guy, and Kurt felt like his heart was being stomped on.

Keeping the smile on his face and helping Blaine convince the council was one of the hardest things he'd ever done.


	5. Chapter 5

For Blaine, performing had always been as natural as breathing. He felt more at home on stage – or in any place that served as one – than he did in his actual home. Which is why it made no sense that he felt so out of sorts now. The Warblers were already strategically placed all over the GAP store, just waiting for Blaine's signal to begin the performance. Jeremiah was there, ready to be wooed, even if he didn't know it yet. Their song choice was great and their harmonies arranged perfectly.

And still something didn't feel right.

It couldn't be stage fright – Blaine didn't _get_ stage fright – and yet, ever since he'd presented his request to the Warblers two days ago, a vague discomfort had been gnawing at his brain, and he still couldn't pinpoint the reason. It was stronger than ever now, almost buzzing along his nerve paths as he was standing to the side of the store with Kurt, rambling about Jeremiah to distract himself and waiting for the perfect moment to start the performance.

Or maybe it was just Kurt's closeness affecting him again, but suddenly, he had doubts – a _world_ of doubts.

"This is insane, I don't know what I'm doing. We haven't even really gone out on a date, we shouldn't do this."

Even through the layers of clothing, Kurt's touch was still a shock and a spark as he took Blaine by the shoulders and pushed him firmly towards the center of the store.

"Okay, come on, man up. You're amazing. He's gonna love you."

And just like that, the discomfort was gone and Blaine took a deep breath to center himself before stepping out front.

Once he started, it was _fantastic_. The rush of performing hot and bright in his veins, he was singing his heart out and everyone clearly loved it – the customers, the staff, his fellow Warblers. Jeremiah seemed shocked at first – and okay, the song choice might have been a bit bold, but Blaine wanted to state his readiness loud and clear – but it only took him a moment to start smiling too, even as he was flitting around the store, pretending to be busy.

Oh, Blaine was _so_ getting a date after this.

The first wave of discomfort hit him fast and hard not even halfway through the song, and he almost stuttered on the confident promise of the lyrics, his show face falling for a second before he got himself together. It was the same unsettling feeling from before, only much stronger, like a physical blow, and Blaine felt... upset? But _how, why, no he didn't_! He felt wonderful, singing to a hot guy he was falling in love with, and everything was going beautifully, so why would he be upset?

Not that it mattered, really – Blaine was a natural born performer. He wouldn't let some weird emotional glitch affect his show, and the feeling faded almost instantly, anyway.

Only to return, even stronger, just as he got to his favorite line, the one about toys. This time it didn't let go and he stumbled on the stand he'd just jumped on.

_It's wrong. So wrong._

What was it, dammit?

He powered through, but it was getting harder by the second, his focus unraveling, his brain screaming at him to pay attention – but to _what_? It took every last bit of effort to remember the words and keep his dance moves even vaguely consistent, but he would manage, he would finish the song, he _would_ –

He didn't. The pounding emotion was too loud in his head, drowning out everything else, and Blaine heard himself slide off-key, a jarring sound and then silence, filled only with the fading harmonies of the other Warblers and their concerned whispers.

It was unlike him. He never broke off in the middle of a song, not even during rehearsals, ever. And now he was standing silent in the middle of the store full of his friends and curious strangers, in front of the guy he was trying to woo. And he _didn't care_. Only the pull of the distress call in his mind mattered right then, and once he stopped fighting it, the instinct only took seconds to kick in. He whirled around without a conscious decision, in a panic-induced search, until he found him.

Leaning against a mannequin, Kurt looked broken, crushed – and then only stunned as he quickly got his face under control again. Blaine was by his side in two quick strides.

"Are you alright?" The urge to reach, to hold, was almost unbearable, his hands feeling empty and his nerves achingly raw.

Kurt arched an eyebrow, his eyes wide. "Of course I am. What happened?"

" _What_ happened?" he repeated dumbly, his eyes raking over Kurt's tense form to make sure he was safe and sound.

"Blaine? You stopped the performance."

"I... what? Oh, I did. Are you sure you're okay? You looked upset." The feeling was fading away already, from the crushing, all-consuming waves to a barely-there buzzing, but his brain was still frozen, shocked with it.

Kurt looked around, confounded, before grabbing Blaine's sleeve and pulling him away and out of the store. "I'm fine. Come on, I think they've called security. Let's talk outside."

"But Kurt –"

"Outside, Blaine." It was gentle, but firm, and Blaine had no choice but to follow.

It took awhile to grab their coats from Kurt's car and dodge the group of confused Warblers – Kurt had some sort of wordless conversation with Wes in passing, one that involved eyebrows, headshakes and nods, which seemed to be enough to avoid questions for now – and by the time they found an unoccupied bench opposite the store, Blaine's rock-solid conviction that he had somehow channeled Kurt's state of mind had wavered and died. The urgency to find out what was wrong and help somehow had disappeared with the strange wave of emotions. While Blaine was still certain it had something to do with his mark, a new sort of connection that he'd have to investigate at some point, there were other things quickly taking priority in his mind now.

He'd just sung a highly sexualized song in the middle of a GAP store to a guy he was trying to impress, in front of a crowd of staff and shoppers.

Had they really called for security? Would he be banned from shopping at the GAP now?

In light of all this, the fact that he'd freaked out in the middle of the performance for no apparent reason seemed trivial indeed.

***

Kurt had no idea what had just happened.

Of course, he was infinitely grateful that the heart-crushing torture of watching Blaine serenade another guy was over. He'd thought he was ready, and had been mentally preparing for this all morning because this was what friends did, right? They supported each other, no matter what. And Blaine, regardless of Kurt's feelings for him, was first and foremost his best friend.

And he'd been doing fine at first – encouraging Blaine when he'd gotten cold feet, singing the stupid creepy song along with the other Warblers like he was supposed to. But at some point it had gotten to be too much. It turned out it was one thing to practice the number at Dalton and mentally steel himself, and quite another to actually see the way Blaine's face lit up when he sang directly to Jeremiah. To see how eager and enthusiastic he was to put his hands on the guy given half a chance, while he'd been pretty much freaking out whenever he'd touched Kurt fleetingly in the last month and a half. It was just... too much.

_– when I get you alone –_

_– you can keep your toys in the drawer tonight –_

_– I want you so bad –_

It was all Kurt could do not to run out of the store to hide in his car and cry. Or scream. Or both.

And then it stopped. Just like that, like flipping a switch. As if the universe noticed Kurt's plight and took pity on him.

And now he was sitting confused in front of the GAP with Blaine, who had just gone from frantic and weirdly protective for no reason to freaking out about the performance. And thank god for the change of tune, because Kurt had almost spilt that _yes, he was upset, and wasn't it obvious why_? Instead, he just sat there, trying to hold on to the supportive best friend attitude (even though _duh, Blaine, of course it was too much_ ) and not overanalyze Blaine's unusual behavior or question him about it.

Jeremiah came out out of the store ten minutes later, clearly annoyed, and Blaine bounced to his feet like a puppy. He was given no chance to speak, though.

"What the hell were you doing? You can't just bust a groove in the middle of someone else's workplace!"

"But –"

"No. I almost got _fired_. I managed to convince my boss it was just some sort of high school prank or a dare, but they're going to watch me like a hawk now." Even with Blaine's back to him, Kurt could feel his distress. He could definitely see it in the way his shoulders slumped. Jeremiah's face softened. "Blaine, let's just be clear here. You and I got coffee twice, we're not dating. If we were, I'd get arrested 'cause you're underage."

"But I'm–"

Jeremiah was already shaking his head and turning away to go back to the store, and the look on Blaine's face when he turned held such a painful mix of embarrassment and devastation that Kurt could almost feel the emotions himself.

But at least it took him away from his own headspace as he scrambled for something to say, some comfort to offer. Then he found it.

"You know what? I think I have a perfect thing for us to do on Valentine's Day. A non-couple thing," he rushed to add. "In fact, I think we need to convince all of the Warblers. Come on."

His McKinley friends were just the right brand of crazy to soothe a broken heart.


	6. Chapter 6

Kurt was surprised how easily Blaine found a common language with most of his McKinley friends – though when he thought about it, it was really not surprising at all. He should have known from seeing Blaine interact with basically everyone in his life, if not from the ease with which he had talked to Kurt that first day they'd met. Blaine was the most sociable, easygoing person imaginable.

After watching him charm his way through the Lonely Hearts Club Dinner on Valentine's Day, taking Blaine to Rachel's party two weeks later was an easy decision. He would blend in beautifully, and maybe some mindless, carefree fun was just the thing to finally chase away the sadness still lingering in Blaine's eyes. Because Blaine could say he was over Jeremiah all he wanted, but he wasn't fooling Kurt. Underneath his bubbly exterior, Blaine was _feeling_ too loudly – so loudly that Kurt was surprised the other Warblers didn't notice the hidden longing and heartache of their favorite frontman.

Then again, no one else was probably as attuned to Blaine as Kurt was.

Things had been good between them lately, ironically better than before the GAP Attack. The rest of the weird, forced distance had melted away and while Kurt would honestly prefer to spare his best friend the suffering, he couldn't say he regretted the result. Even unrequited feelings were so much easier to bear when Blaine didn't act like he was going to catch the plague if he so much as brushed against Kurt in passing.

So in light of all that, the party had seemed like a good idea. Now, however, halfway through the evening, Kurt was not so sure.

No, scratch that. He was absolutely sure it was one of the worst ideas he'd ever had.

He'd decided early on that adding alcohol to the volatile mix of his emotions could only end badly and despite Puck's urging, he stuck to Coke all along. Blaine, however, had no reason for such reservations. And he was clearly having _loads_ of fun.

Drunk Blaine, it turned out, was even more excitable and energetic than sober Blaine, and though he'd stayed at Kurt's side for a while, after his first drink he'd bounced away to dance and explore. That was three hours ago, and Kurt was seriously considering just leaving Blaine to it and going home. The only thing stopping him was that he wasn't sure if anyone else would be sober _and_ care enough to stop the Warbler in case he decided to drive himself home at some point. So he stayed, though watching Blaine duet with Rachel through a series of increasingly heated love songs was not his idea of fun. Especially when Blaine seemed to be even more tactile when drunk.

When they finally left the stage after an inappropriately long hug, Kurt got up from his seat by the piano. Maybe now he'd manage to cajole Blaine into going home – he'd even drive him, and pick him up tomorrow so that he could get his car. Anything to finish this failure of an evening. But Blaine just passed him with a huge grin as he bounced away to the couch, where he lay with his head in Rachel's lap, very nearly purring when she started combing her hand through his messy curls.

That was quite enough for Kurt to watch. And since he couldn't help feeling responsible for his best friend's safety, he went in search of some other company to pass the time.

Tina, who had been glued at the lips to Mike all evening, was now sitting with Mercedes in a quiet corner. They were giggling, adorably tipsy, and Kurt exhaled with relief as he crossed the room to join them. His view of the damn couch would be blessedly blocked from there, and he hadn't had a chance to  properly talk with his girls for weeks.

They were in the middle of catching him up on the complicated tangle of New Directions gossip when Kurt saw a glimpse of something on Tina's right wrist. He took her hand to look closely – and gasped.

Right there, in sepia brown letters, a spiky scrawl spelled _Michael Chang_.

"Tina, what is this?" Kurt's voice came out a good half an octave higher than usual.

"Ooh right! You haven't seen my tattoo yet!" Tina beamed at him and flexed her wrist to show off the writing. "I've only had it for a month."

Mercedes shook her head. "I still can't believe her parents let her do this. Mine would have blown a gasket if I had wanted to tattoo my boyfriend's name on my body, not to mention in such a visible place."

"Well, they've been surprisingly understanding." Tina shrugged dismissively, and then yelped as Kurt grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet and away, barely sparing a quick "Excuse us for a second" to a stunned Mercedes.

The crowded basement was no place for this conversation, but the laundry room was just upstairs, and conveniently empty. The words were out as soon as he closed the door behind them.

"That's not a tattoo."

Tina paled a little, her eyes widening, but she caught herself quickly. "I don't know what you're–"

"Tina. It just appeared one day, didn't it?"

She gasped, surprised, all pretence falling off her face. "How did you know?"

"I've read about it recently. About those marks." It was all Kurt was ready to reveal. "So your parents really know?"

"Well it would be hard to hide something like this. They were shocked and a bit suspicious at first, but then they asked around and it turned out that there were already a few people with similar marks in the local Asian community. They accepted it fairly easily after that, especially when Mike got my name."

Kurt's heart lost a beat. "Wait. Mike too?"

"Yes, on his shoulder. Our parents took it as a confirmation that we're destined to be together. They've been much more supportive of our relationship since then."

Kurt's head was spinning. He'd read that there were some cases where two people got each other's marks, but as far as he knew, they were extremely rare. Exceptions, really. Well, now one of these exceptions sat on the washer in front of him, braiding a strand of her hair and smiling brightly.

"Did you report it somewhere? Show it to your doctor or... I don't know, there are scientists working on the phenomenon, I've read."

Tina shook her head. "No. We considered it but our parents decided there's no use. They don't want us to make a big deal out of it, or stick out. That's why they told us to pass the marks off as tattoos. We know what it all means anyway, even if the scientists need years to find their proof."

"You do?"

"Come on, just think about it. Why would two people get each other's names on their skin if not to tell them they are perfect for each other? The love of each other's lives? Plus," she looked at Kurt earnestly, as if telling him a secret, "believe me, when you have it, you just know. Your body knows."

"How?" Kurt had a feeling he knew exactly how, but he needed to hear it, if only to make sure he hadn't imagined it all, that someone else, someone he knew, really shared this experience with him. Tina's smile turned dreamy.

"I can't imagine ever being with anyone else now. I mean, we were close before, of course, but ever since the names appeared, it's a whole new level, Kurt. It's almost like we can read each other's minds. And we can't stop touching, seriously. At first it was just me and Mike thought it was funny because I literally couldn't stand not being close to him. But a week later he got his own and he understood. Everything is just... more. It's like we're one, now. I can't think of a better way to put it."

Something squeezed painfully in Kurt's chest. "Wow. That must be nice."

"It's the best. Really." She hesitated for a bit, looking at him with searching eyes. "Kurt... Do you want to tell me something?"

"No." He shook his head quickly. "No, I don't."

She didn't look convinced, but let it slide, just nodded and squeezed his hand.

"Okay, but if you ever want to talk–"

"Thank you." He moved in to hug her and she returned the embrace tightly. "Sorry for kidnapping you like this."

"It's okay. But we should go, Mike is probably looking for me already."

"You go. I'll be there in a moment."

Tina looked like she wanted to say something before she slipped out – question Kurt's sanity maybe, because what was he going to do in someone else's laundry room, alone? Rearrange fabric softener? But he just needed a few minutes to compose himself before facing Blaine again. Tina's words resonated deep within him, stirring awake long-hidden romantic notions of two halves of an apple and soulmates and fate, of true love and connections so real and visceral that nothing could sever them. And Kurt really didn't need them awake now.

Because even if she was right about the "destined to be together" thing, clearly it was only one side of the coin. They were among the lucky ones, Tina and Mike; what about those who didn't have this two-way connection? Whose mark sat on their skin cold and solitary, not reciprocated on the other's body? What about people like Kurt? Were they destined to have the love of their life be unrequited?

Because as tempting as it was to hope that Blaine could have a mark – Kurt's name – too, Kurt knew he would only be fooling himself. Would Blaine act like he had if he felt the pull that Tina had talked about and Kurt knew far too well? Would he distance himself instead of getting closer? Would he fall in love with another guy, never even trying to have this kind of connection with Kurt? And if he didn't have the mark by now, over two months after Kurt's own appeared, what was the chance he would ever get it?

Resigned, Kurt shook his head. It was no use thinking about it, especially now. He needed to work on getting Blaine home, or convince Rachel to make sure he stayed overnight and didn't drive until he sobered up. And then he had to go home to bed, and hope tomorrow would be an easier day.

 

The moment Kurt reentered Rachel's basement, he wished he hadn't.

His friends were sitting on the floor in a circle, a wine cooler bottle spinning in the middle, and _damn_   Rachel's sharp eye because Kurt was _this close_ to backing out the door and returning to his cozy laundry room when she spotted him and flew up the stairs to pull him down. She was drunkenly insistent and there was no way to escape her clutches as she led him to a spot beside her. And when Blaine joined in with a mildly slurred "Kurrrrt, you _have to_ play with us" from his other side, Kurt had no choice but to tell his treacherous heart to shut up, settle on the floor and hope the bottle wouldn't point to him.

It did, of course.

Still, he was lucky. He could have gotten Finn, which would be totally awkward because there was no way Kurt would kiss his own step-brother and ex-crush; or Santana, who would probably try to tongue-fuck him and then never let him live it down. But no, thankfully it was Quinn whose spin of the bottle landed on Kurt, and he was reasonably certain he would get away with just a quick peck. Which was just fine with him, thank you very much.

He was just leaning towards the center of the circle and Quinn's pursed lips when a hard tug at the back of his waistband sent him flying, making him lose his balance and land in a graceless heap right in someone's lap.

Even with his mind frozen in surprise, his body's immediate reaction was enough to tell him whose arms had just encircled him tightly, making it virtually impossible to move. And then Blaine's voice sounded right by his ear, low and growly.

"No. Mine."


	7. Chapter 7

Whooping and whistling.

Faces – cheering, surprised, smiling. Faces Kurt knew. Faces that didn't matter in the slightest.

It was all background, muted and faraway, a faint buzz barely registered by some small, unimportant part of his brain. Everything faded but the urgency of what just happened – what was still happening; all of his senses saturated with exactly what he'd been craving for, months of denial and now suddenly, shockingly, here it was.

Blaine's touch, his arms crossed tight around Kurt's waist, his body hard and solid behind him. Lips resting against the side of Kurt's neck, just lightly, innocently there. Blaine's smell, cologne and alcohol and _him_. Fingertips brushing gently, soothingly over Kurt's stomach, a square inch of absentminded bliss.

Kurt could barely breathe, his body frozen and oversensitive, every nerve right there on the surface, firing away, pleasure and contentment and warmth. He felt drunk on it, or drugged, too much endorphins all at once and a helpless, delicious surrender.

Slowly, the rest of the world started to come back – the bottle spinning. People laughing, kissing. The music, still there, a pounding counterpoint to Kurt's steady heartbeat. The slightest scratch of Blaine's stubble against his neck.

Someone was saying something – Rachel, he realized lazily – gesturing towards the bottle and prodding Blaine's arm. It only served to move Blaine's hand over Kurt's belly and down to his hip, gathering him up even closer. A mumbled "Mm, we're not playing" and hot breath against sensitive skin making Kurt shiver.

Enveloped in _good-right-Blaine_ , his body humming at what felt like the perfect frequency of happiness, he watched the others play until they got bored and abandoned the circle one by one. Finally only Mercedes remained, asleep against the armchair, and okay, Kurt was getting a little cramped, folded in Blaine's lap like he was. Maybe it was a good idea to move somewhere more comfortable. Like the couch. Blaine could hold him perfectly fine there if he still wanted to ( _oh please let him still want to_ ), and Kurt wouldn't mind regaining feeling in his legs, now that the all-encompassing urgency to keep Blaine as close as possible at all cost had faded somehow.

Except it wasn't that easy.

"Mm no, comfy." Blaine sounded utterly drunk, adorably whiny and a little sleepy. Kurt couldn't resist him like this, especially when he pressed his face even closer, the gentle slide of soft, dry lips under Kurt's ear. "You smell so good. So _so_ good, Kurt."

Oh. Okay then. Moving was not an option.

Kurt settled for stretching his legs a little, flexing his feet to help the circulation. The annoying pins-and-needles feeling had nothing on Blaine's contented hum vibrating against his skin. Never mind discomfort, he'd just sit here and enjoy the closeness while he still could.

 

Five songs later, Blaine was no longer humming and Kurt's back was screaming at him to move.

He'd been sitting hunched for way too long, curled into Blaine's chest to accommodate for their height difference, and finally he reached the point where the discomfort was stronger than the pleasure of being held. Blaine's chin hooked over his shoulder seemed heavier with every passing minute. Slowly, bracing himself for resistance, Kurt straightened up a little.

"Blaine?"

Silence. He leaned forward and Blaine followed, his arms loosening their hold on Kurt's middle.

"Blaine."

Still nothing. Kurt took his hand and squeezed it gently, then less so; shook his arm. No reaction. Blaine was fast asleep.

Great.

 

Getting Blaine, uncooperative and heavy, up and into the car was a challenge that demanded full focus (and some help from Finn), so it was only when they started towards the outskirts of Lima that Kurt realized he had no idea where he was going. He knew where Blaine lived – in general terms – but he'd never been there, or even had the actual address, and the only person who could pilot him was currently out cold in the passenger's seat, resistant to all attempts at communication

He could probably pull over and go through Blaine's pockets to find his driver's license, and go from there – but then what? Blaine was dead to the world, there was no way he'd be able to get into the house and to his room by himself. Kurt could just imagine himself ringing the bell of his best friend's house at two in the morning, holding Blaine passed out against him.

_Hello Mr. and Mrs. Anderson, here's your son, nice to meet you, 'kbye_.

Sure, that would go well.

No, there was only one option. Sighing, Kurt turned the car around and went home.

 

Leaving Blaine asleep on the couch was out of the question – his dad could stumble upon him if he went to get some water during the night. Which meant he had to sleep in Kurt's room. In Kurt's _bed_. And the potential for creepiness that offered was terrifying.

Blaine didn't wake up while being hauled – none too gently – out of the car and up the stairs. Winded, Kurt deposited him on top of the bed, slid off his shoes, covered him with a throw and fled to the bathroom to prepare for sleep – and to calm down. Yes, Blaine probably wouldn't be comfortable sleeping in those jeans. Yes, his cardigan would get terribly wrinkled. But Kurt wouldn't risk freaking him out any more than he was probably going to be anyway when he woke up – hung-over, in Kurt's bed, not remembering how he'd gotten there.

By the time Kurt slid under the sheets, careful to keep a respectable distance, he was fairly certain he had this whole thing in proper perspective.

The developments of the night were as wonderful as they were unexpected. But they were also influenced by alcohol. It made sense that Blaine, tactile by nature, turned out to be a cuddly drunk. And while Kurt's body had clearly been addicted to Blaine's closeness since his mark appeared, the fact that it had gotten a solid dose of its drug tonight didn't mean there was a steady supply in Kurt's future, or that he was entitled to anything because of it. Nothing had changed between them, he had to remember that.

Overly aware of Blaine's presence so close that he could reach his hand and touch him – so close that his body hummed with it, Kurt didn't think he'd manage to fall asleep.

When he opened his eyes, it was dawn, the first tendrils of sunlight barely breaking the darkness in the room. He was warm and comfortable, and felt _amazing_ – almost too good for such an early hour.

The warm, boneless weight of a boy on his chest explained a lot.

Blaine was pressed against him, hot even through the comforter. His arm was thrown possessively over Kurt's waist, his head resting on Kurt's shoulder, right over the spot where his name was inscribed. His face looked so soft and peaceful that Kurt couldn't resist. Gently, he threaded his fingers into the short curls at the nape of Blaine's neck and left them there, his thumb brushing slowly back and forth in a tender caress.

He should probably get up soon, get out of bed and dressed before Blaine woke up. But there was something so precious in the serenity of this moment that made him hold onto it just a little bit longer.

Blaine stirred, a slow, sleepy movement, and Kurt quickly stilled the strokes of his fingers, moved the hand away. Shit. _Shit shit shit_. Blaine just nuzzled his face into the crook of his neck though, humming indulgently. Oh, good – he wasn't awake yet, then.

Until he stiffened and moved away, his voice slightly panicked.

"Um, Kurt? Where am I?"

***

The crisp air of early morning worked like a cold shower, which was exactly the effect Blaine hoped for when he'd told Kurt he wanted to walk, rather than be driven, to Rachel's house to get his car. Five minutes of a brisk march and the last remnants of alcohol fumes had lifted from his brain, leaving him wide awake and kind of embarrassed about his hasty (more like desperate) retreat.

Oh well, the prospect of Kurt's father finding him in his son's bed after a party was _really_ terrifying. Leaving as soon as he was up had seemed like the best course of action

Half an hour later, not far from Rachel's place, he found a little bakery that served coffee and went in to grab some breakfast. He'd promised Kurt he would stop somewhere to get properly caffeinated before getting behind the wheel. And while, thankfully, he didn't feel too terrible considering the amount of alcohol he'd ingested last night, coffee may help kill his burgeoning headache. And clear his mind.

But it turned out no amount of coffee – or, at least, not the two cups he had – could fill the gap in Blaine's memory, enlightening him on the details of how he'd gotten from Rachel's couch to Kurt's bed last night, and what the hell he'd done in between. The only thing he was certain of – because his body was still buzzing with it – was that he'd had Kurt in his arms for at least part of that time. There were fuzzy images of sitting in a circle with others, Kurt's body flush against his, of holding onto Kurt's strong shoulders and Kurt's fingers playing with his hair – but he had no idea how much of those were just alcohol-induced dreams.

At least Kurt hadn't looked freaked out in the morning, so there was a chance Blaine hadn't assaulted him in any way, or done anything to make Kurt afraid of him, thank god.

It took a surprisingly long time to follow this train of thought properly in his befuddled state, so it was only when Blaine was in his car and halfway home that he realized. He'd been completely out of control last night, any shred of rational thinking gone, and yet – he hadn't _ravished_ Kurt, hadn't even kissed him, because _that_ was something he would have remembered. He was down to his most basic instincts, completely drunk, and he'd done _nothing_ to make Kurt flinch away from him in the morning, not even when he invaded his personal space like _whoa_ in his sleep.

Whether the mark was sexual or not, it didn't rule him. It didn't make him do anything he wouldn't do without it.

The relief of the revelation almost made him run off the road.

***

Coffee in the Lima Bean with Rachel, and then helping her out with the post-party cleanup – Kurt could think of better ways to spend his Saturday, but it beat sitting in his bedroom, remembering every touch and every word, and moping over the fact that he didn't know if he'd ever have another.

Too bad Rachel wouldn't stop talking about Blaine.

"He called me, you know, not an hour ago. Asking what happened between him and you before you left the party."

"... oh." Kurt busied himself fixing his coffee, trying not to let his face betray him. Of course Blaine wouldn't remember. It wasn't like he'd expected anything else after this morning. Still –

"He seemed a bit shocked when I told him." Kurt's heart sank even lower. "Well, I mean, I was too, last night! Then he wanted to know how you reacted and–"

Kurt's phone rang, saving him from hearing more.

"Excuse me for a second." He fished the phone out of his pocket and sighed. "Speak of the devil. _Hi Blaine_."

The voice in the speaker was soft, tentative. "Hi. Listen, Kurt. I um... I wanted to ask you something. Would you go out with me? On a date? Not a coffee date, just. A date. Please?"


	8. Chapter 8

A long time ago (really, it felt like another lifetime now), during his desperate, hopeless crush on Finn, Kurt entertained a secret fantasy about his first date. The details changed every now and then – his outfits alone were different every time – but the main elements stayed the same. He'd known perfectly well how it would go if Finn Hudson ever realized he  _liked_ Kurt and asked him out on a date.

He would turn up on Kurt's doorstep with a dozen red roses. They would go to Breadstix, where they'd have a wonderful time getting to really know each other, discovering shared experiences and interests in the process. By the end of the meal, Finn would take Kurt's hand over the table, declaring that he didn't care who saw, he was not ashamed of being on a date with the boy he was in love with ( _of course_ ). They would share the tiramisu and then, still holding hands, they'd go to the theater. In the middle of some deep, emotional movie, Finn would casually put his arm around Kurt's shoulders. They would drive back home afterwards, discussing the artistic value and existential meaning of what they'd watched, and then, at Kurt's front door, Finn would kiss him goodnight, a chaste peck on the lips that would leave them both swooning.

A year later, Kurt still blushed a furious shade of red at the memory.

 

The reality of Kurt's first date was a bit different from what he'd dreamed back then.

That Sunday afternoon Blaine came to pick him up with a lovely bouquet of pink and purple tulips, wearing a smile that was almost shy and a sparkle in his eyes when he told Kurt he looked amazing. They went to a cozy restaurant on the outskirts of Lima, and didn't need to discover things they shared because they'd known them for a long time. The conversation was easy and two hours passed in a blink, and there was green tea cheesecake instead of tiramisu. They didn't hold hands because it was still Ohio and while bravery was a great quality, getting to eat in peace and leave the place undisturbed was better. And besides, the look in Blaine's eyes as he looked at Kurt, so new and yet somehow so familiar, felt like a hug even when they didn't touch.

They went to see _Love Story_ at the revival theater afterwards, a movie they both knew so well they could quote the dialogue. Could, but didn't, because the movie turned out to be background only, sweetly familiar as they sat in the safe darkness and _dared_. It _felt_ like a dare to Kurt, like a leap of faith, to take Blaine's hand waiting so innocently between them – take it and hope he hadn't read the signals wrong.

The warmth of their touch was different this time, not so sudden and explosive, more like contented humming running through Kurt's whole body, as if his skin and blood and heart recognized this boy now and greeted him with a smile. Blaine's hand slid into his like it belonged there, their fingers intertwining, and then Blaine's thumb was tracing simple patterns over the back of Kurt's hand, feather-light and _so warm_ , and it was–

It was perfect bliss.

The movie finished eventually – that was probably inevitable, though Kurt would be absolutely content to just sit like this for a few more hours, marveling over the miracle that was skin, with its countless nerve endings feeding pure, undiluted pleasure right to his brain. But that was it, the lights were back on and it was time to take his hand away, get up and go, back to the car, and back home.

The fact that Blaine looked about as flushed and dazed as Kurt felt was a bit of a consolation.

 

"Why now?" he couldn't help himself as they pulled over in front of the house. Yesterday, after the phone call, he'd told himself not to ask, not to question a good thing, but it had been sitting on his tongue all evening, a grain of doubt like ash.  

Blaine made an inquiring little sound and looked at him, so beautiful – so _everything_ – and Kurt had to swallow and blink a few times before he remembered what he was saying.

"The date. I loved it, but... why now, when you've never seen me as anything more than a friend before?"

"Oh Kurt." Blaine chuckled quietly, a soft, incredulous sound in the darkness. "I've always hoped you'd be more than my friend. From the very first day. You didn't notice?"

Well _that_ was not an answer he expected. " _No_? Of course not, you never said anything and... But... Jeremiah?"

Blaine shifted, looked away. "Jeremiah was a distraction. I couldn't have _you_ so I tried–"

"Why? Why did you think you couldn't have me? Because you could, you know. Even months ago." God, all this time. He couldn't believe it.

"I... really? I was sure that after what you went through, after Karofsky, and your dad, and changing schools, the last thing you needed was... I was just trying to be a good friend." Blaine sighed and shook his head. "I should have asked, shouldn't I?"

"That might have been useful, yes."

"Wow. I really am clueless." Blaine stared through the windshield for a moment, hands clenched on the steering wheel. When he turned back to Kurt, there was something open and vulnerable in his face, his voice soft. "Look, Kurt. I don't know what I'm doing. I pretend like I do and I know how to act it out in song, but the truth is... I've never really been anyone's boyfriend."

Kurt smiled. "Me neither."

There was a question hanging in the air, somewhere on the brink of falling – and then Kurt's telephone beeped with an alarm, signaling his curfew.

 

Blaine walked him to the door in silence, their hands brushing against each other with every step. They stopped on the porch, face to face in the warm light and Kurt's heart was pounding, an excited gallop of anticipation.

"Thank you for tonight, Blaine. It was wonderful."

"No, thank _you_. Do you think we could do it again some time soon?"

"I'd love that."

And then the moment was there, Blaine was leaning in, slow and careful, and Kurt's breath turned shallow. Ready – he was _so_ ready. His eyes slid shut. He could feel Blaine's breath ghost over his lips –

The soft kiss on the cheek was a shock.

_Hell no_.

Without a conscious decision, he reached to keep Blaine close, one hand gently on the back on his neck, and turned his head to meet Blaine's lips.

***

It wasn't Blaine's first kiss, but it was Kurt's, at least the first one that truly counted, and Blaine had been fully prepared to wait, go slow, not force anything, no matter how much Kurt's lips tempted him with every word, every smile and every bite of food tonight. The fact that Kurt had no intention to wait and didn't hesitate to take control to get what he wanted made him go weak in the knees.

Kurt tasted like cherries and sunshine and happiness, and the few seconds of his lips pressing softly against Blaine's were enough to make Blaine an addict for life.

He chased Kurt's mouth when he pulled away, a small whine escaping him like a wordless plea, and Kurt gave in immediately. He was bolder already, pressing in almost hungrily, with his hand on Blaine's cheek to angle him just-so. And then Kurt's lips were parting, his tongue brushing across Blaine's lower lip before dipping shallowly into his mouth and honestly, why had no one ever told Blaine that kissing could feel like this? Because really. He'd never gotten so hard and desperate so fast, not ever. And yet, he felt no need to do anything about it. He'd be perfectly happy to just stand there with Kurt, kissing for the rest of the night. Judging by the contented little sounds Kurt was letting out with every slide of Blaine's tongue, he wouldn't be opposed to it, either.

The porch light flickered suddenly, a quick sequence of on-off-on-off-on, and Kurt gasped and pulled away.

"Oh god, my dad. I've gotta go. But... see you at school in the morning?"

"Definitely. I'll be early."

"Me too." With a last quick kiss Kurt opened the door and went inside, and Blaine nearly danced back to his car, grinning so hard his face hurt. He didn't care.

Kurt kissed him. Kurt wanted him.

God, he was so in love.  


	9. Chapter 9

_Will you be my boyfriend?_

It was a question that wouldn't leave Blaine's mind, always right there on the tip of his tongue, waiting to explode out of him without a moment's notice if he wasn't careful. Halfway home that Sunday night he already itched to call Kurt, and when they met in the Dalton parking lot the next morning, it was the first thing that he wanted to ask.

But he couldn't do that, not like this. Kurt deserved the best there was, in _everything_ , and that included having this question asked properly, in well-planned, romantic circumstances – even if Blaine had to bite his tongue all week. He had a few ideas for the next weekend, though. He would do it _right_.

It was hard, though, when everything was so sweetly awkward between them, all fumbling hands and sitting too close and yet not close enough, furtive glances and too bright smiles without a reason. It wasn't like being boyfriends would change much in the way they could act in public, but the longing was there, in every touch and every look, and if Blaine wasn't very much mistaken, it wasn't just him.

The revelations of that weird Cheerio coach from McKinley only added to that.

"Wow, it means that Warblers gotta do something _sexified_." Blaine was already scrolling excitedly through his mental library of songs they could perform when he noticed Kurt get tense next to him. "Hey, what's wrong?"

They were at the counter now so Kurt took a moment to answer. It wasn't until they were seated at the table, fixing their coffee (a dash of nutmeg for Kurt, sugar for Blaine), when he shrugged, not meeting Blaine's eyes.

"It's nothing. I just... I don't think I'm able to _do_ sexy." He said quietly.

Blaine completely missed his cup with the lid he was trying to put back on.

"Are you kidding? You _are_ kidding." Kurt didn't look like he was kidding. "Kurt, you're the sexiest guy in all of Ohio."

"Riiight." The skepticism in Kurt's face was bordering on a sneer. "No, I'm not. Don't joke like that."

" _Ngh_." Blaine answered eloquently, because this particular expression on Kurt's face, with his eyebrow arched and his jawline so strong and defined, with a blush creeping up high on his cheekbones, always did _things_ to him. He swallowed thickly. "Not joking."

Kurt still didn't look convinced, and a coffeeshop in the middle of the afternoon was not a good place to just _show_ him, so Blaine shook his head a little to clear it and tried another angle.

"Besides, even if you don't believe me, I'm sure you can do sexy onstage. You're an actor, come on. You did flirty perfectly when we were practicing that Christmas duet." Kurt blushed harder and bit his lip. _Guh_. "Just. Just imagine that someone you're attracted to is right there, maybe? There and fascinated, and waiting for the end of the performance to sweep you away and show you just how sexy you are."

Kurt gasped softly.

 

God, his own advice would be the death of Blaine one day.

Kurt looked nervous when they were getting ready for the performance in Dalton's old storage house the dean let them use sometimes. He looked _mortified_ after Blaine's little introduction, squirming under the curious glances of the Crawford girls, and his hands were still shaking visibly as they started the song. But the moment they ended up face to face, Kurt's whole demeanor shifted between one heartbeat and the next. And Blaine was so. Screwed.

Kurt turned on the teasing.

Blaine wasn't sure how exactly he got through the whole song without messing up the routine or forgetting the words completely. It probably meant that he was good, if he managed to sing and dance even through the haze of desire muddling his brain, on legs that felt like jelly and with a hard-on that made it difficult to move fluidly.

With Kurt anywhere in his field of vision – his body moving like it was made for this, every look and smirk a seduction – Blaine forgot all about the girls they were performing for, or the reason they were doing it, or even the fact that all of his fellow Warblers were around them, looking. And the lyrics of the song they were performing – what had he been thinking, choosing _Animal_? – only added to the sexual tension simmering in the air between them.

The end found them standing on the concrete floor of the storehouse, covered in bubbles, two inches from a kiss and breathing heavily.

"Get a room, guys." Jeff groaned, passing them by, rolling his eyes with a smile.

They did.

Well, okay, not like that, but. Yeah, they did.

***

By the time Blaine finished talking with the Crawford girls, trying to get their opinions on the performance, Kurt's hair and his emotions were mostly back under control. His mind, however, was still pretty much reeling with the newfound realization: when faced with Blaine, pulling off sexy and seductive was _easy_. Once he took the leap and let himself think back to their kisses on the porch, and admit how much he wanted _more_ of those, looking at Blaine and communicating attraction, desire through every move and every expression was as natural as breathing.

And effective, too. He'd seen it in the way Blaine couldn't look away from him, mesmerized, the way he kept searching Kurt out wherever they were throughout the song, and touching him in passing whenever he could get away with it. Blaine's gaze was almost hungry by the time the music stopped.

And Kurt knew exactly how he must have felt. His own body was still thrumming with the sensual, sexy vibe of the song and Blaine's proximity.

"I don't understand why they look like I've offended them somehow." Blaine came back, confusion clear on his face. "Usually they are all too eager to give us feedback."

"Well I'll hazard a guess that usually you spend more time singing at them than at your male co-lead." Kurt smirked, and the perfect _O_ of Blaine's mouth only made him want to kiss it.

Blaine shook his head and shrugged. "Oh well. I think Jeff and Nick are handling it just fine. So, are you up for coffee?"

The Lima Bean. People. A table between them.

"How about we hang out at my house instead?" Oh wow, he didn't plan _that_. His body approved, though. "I made brownies last night."

"You had me at brownies." If the dark, heated look on Blaine's face was indeed an indication of his relationship with brownies, Kurt should maybe get him some sort of a leaflet about food porn from Miss Pillsbury.

 

The house was surprisingly empty and quiet when they arrived, and maybe once it would have made Kurt nervous, but right now it only made something excited swoop in his belly as they took the brownies and glasses of cold milk upstairs to his room.

The brownies were delicious – of course they were, Kurt made goddamn great brownies, but now their plates were empty and Kurt was sitting on the edge of his bed, with Blaine in front of him in the desk chair, and the silence was getting awkward. Even the music from the iPod speakers wasn't helping when each song seemed to be more suggestive than the previous one.

Oh, they had plenty of things to talk about if they wanted. But the air between them was charged, full of tension, and Kurt didn't even try to pretend he didn't know why.

He wanted to reach out and touch Blaine. And he was pretty certain Blaine wanted the same. Why was it so hard then?

"You've got some chocolate on your lips." Blaine's voice was slightly off, a little breathless. Kurt darted his tongue out, trying to find the offending spot. "No, there... um, let me."

And then Blaine was kneeling on the floor in front of him, his thumb swiping along Kurt's lower lip. It came up smeared with a bit of melted chocolate that Blaine licked off immediately, and Kurt couldn't hold in a gasp.

There was only a second of hesitation, a heartbeat that was barely enough for their eyes to meet, and then Blaine was kissing him, deep and hungry, licking into his mouth, his tongue still cool from the milk and tasting like chocolate, and it was all Kurt could do to bury his fingers in the hair at the back of Blaine's head and hold on, and kiss back with a passion that came right from the very center of him. He was pretty sure the soft little moans were his. He didn't care.

And then, just as fast as Blaine's mouth came, it was gone. Kurt tried to follow it with a whimper of protest, but Blaine cupped his cheek and looked at him, so solemn and intense even as his voice came out rough and breathless.

"No, wait. I need to. First. Be my boyfriend? _Please_ be my boyfriend, Kurt."

" _Yes._ "

And they were kissing again, hard and deep, with abandon, and it was fucking _heaven_ , even better than their first kisses on Sunday night because Kurt knew what to expect now, he had dreamed of the miracle of Blaine's lips every night this week, and now they had time, they were alone and _boyfriends_ and they could. They could kiss all they wanted.

He'd  never thought one could _feel_ so much, anything so powerful. But it seemed as if his whole body was _made_ to feel Blaine, perfectly receptive to every touch, every tiny movement and sensation and sound. Every press of Blaine's lips and sweep of his tongue flowed down Kurt's spine in a delightfully hot wave, feeding the fire settling low in his belly. His fingers curled, helpless with pleasure, in Blaine's hair, the back of his blazer; his head swam; his lips tingled and burned and _god_ , this was better than anything, ever.

Blaine let out a broken moan right into his mouth, his hands sliding up Kurt's thighs to clutch at his waist under the blazer, impossibly hot through the thin cotton of his shirt. And then Blaine was mouthing at Kurt's neck and it was too much to keep doing anything more then _feel_. Caution thrown to the wind, Kurt gave up all control, gave in to the overwhelming _yespleasemore_.

"Kurt?"

The knock on the bedroom door was a shocking return to reality.

He only had enough time to pull away from Blaine and take in his boyfriend's – _boyfriend's!_ – completely debauched appearance before the door opened and his father stood in the doorway, a recipe book nearly falling from his hand.

"Oh. I'm sorry."

And then the door was closing again and Blaine was looking at him with an absolutely mortified expression, his hair tousled and lips bee-stung from kissing, and Kurt could only hide his burning face in his hands, trying not to whimper with embarrassment.

 

His father was thankfully nowhere to be seen when Kurt walked Blaine to the door. They didn't even kiss goodbye, both too distressed to prolong this moment.

"Call me later?" Blaine squeezed Kurt's hand, clearly concerned though Kurt had assured him he would be fine. He shouldn't be in too much trouble. At least he hoped so.

"I will. Drive safely."

And then Blaine was gone, and Kurt turned around and headed back to his room, trying to be as quiet as possible. His dad's voice caught up with him just as he was starting up the stairs.

"Kurt? Come here for a second."

Sighing heavily, he resisted the temptation to pretend he didn't hear the summons, put on a brave face and stepped into the kitchen. His dad looked at him over a glass of water – and looked away so fast that something in Kurt's chest squeezed painfully.

"New rule. The door to your room stays open when Blaine is over."

"But–"

"It's exactly the same with Finn when whichever of his girlfriends visits and you know it, so no sour faces." His dad crossed to the fridge and started taking out random ingredients, clearly uncomfortable. "And... I want to talk to you after dinner, okay? Okay, you can go."

 

Tears stung Kurt's eyes as he closed the door behind him and crossed to his wardrobe to change out of his uniform. He'd gotten so used to his father's acceptance; it hurt to know theory was one thing, but actually seeing him with a boy seemed to–

His train of thought was cut short when he caught a glimpse of himself in the full-length mirror – and gasped. Okay. Maybe he should cut his dad some slack before assuming anything... considering that he blushed himself at what he saw.

His hair was mussed, his lips dark red and noticeably swollen, but that was just the beginning. Kurt had no idea how or when it had happened, but his uniform shirt was untucked, the top two buttons undone, his tie hung loose and it was impossible to miss the large, dark purple hickey under his left ear.

Oh wow. They _did_ get carried away.

The funny part was, he was completely incapable of regretting it. He got carried away making out with his boyfriend, and it was _glorious_ , parental displeasure or not.

Except when he reached to unbutton his shirt the rest of the way, the fabric shifted to reveal the first letters of Blaine's name under his collarbone, and Kurt's excitement quickly melted away as dread started to seep in.

What if Blaine saw the mark? It would be so easy for him to notice it in a situation like this, even just today – one look, one unfortunate slide of the shirt collar and –

And then what? He'd have to explain the phenomenon, confess just how long he'd had the mark, maybe even, if Blaine asked the right questions – like he usually did – tell him about all the weird side effects? The dreams, the pull towards him, the heightened reactions... For Kurt, these were almost normal by now, something he'd had time to get used to. He could only imagine what a shock it would be for Blaine to hear about it all for the first time, and when they'd only just started dating.

Of course, it they stayed together longer – and Kurt definitely hoped they would – there was no way he would be able to hide the mark forever. It was in a spot that didn't need much to be uncovered, as today proved – a couple of buttons and there it was. But he really needed more time, a chance to tell Blaine on his own terms, to prepare him somehow. Maybe link him to an article, passing it as something interesting he'd read? Gauge his reaction? Or tell him about Tina and Mike, if they let him. And then, a bit later, admit to having his own mark – that should be gradual enough.

The last thing he wanted was to freak Blaine out. He'd tell him, of course he would. Soon. He'd just give him a little more time. A month maybe. Two, _tops_. It just meant he'd have to make sure his shirts stayed put and buttoned up until then, that's all. He could easily do this.

Okay, cross out the _easily._ But he could, right?

He had more immediate problems now, anyway. The impending talk with his dad after dinner, for one. Making sure he had a non-staining concealer that would actually cover the hickey. Finding the way to think about Blaine without an immediate reaction in his pants because _that_ would make the talk about hundred times more embarrassing than it was certain to be anyway.

***

Blaine was doing his best, he really was. But if he was being honest with himself, it was inevitable after the afternoon performance and Kurt's explosion of sexiness, and then all the kissing in Kurt's bedroom, and being boyfriends now... He'd had trouble resisting even when they were completely platonic, so tonight even the tiniest thought of Kurt – okay, most any thought, because they all centered around Kurt anyway – made heat flare in his belly. It was only a matter of time before he'd give in to the temptation. Especially when Kurt texted him that he wasn't in trouble with his dad, which made the weight of worry lift from Blaine's shoulders.

He made it till bedtime, but when he finally caved, sprawled naked on his bed behind the locked door, it only took seconds and it all flooded and overwhelmed him until there was nothing else. The sense memory of his boyfriend's lips, his hands and skin and scent, his thighs holding Blaine firmly in place when he kneeled on the floor. He savored it, drew it out until it was almost torture to hold back any longer, and then it was an implosion of pleasure, everything centered and shockingly focused, an undiluted, overflowing ecstasy.

Kurt called him ten minutes later.

"Hey. What are you doing?" He sounded a little winded, but bubbly, which brought an immediate smile to Blaine's lips.

"Thinking about you." Which wasn't even a lie, was it? Even if he didn't mention the context – that would be _way_ too forward. "How did the talk with your father go?"

"Good. Mortifying, but good." There was a smile in Kurt's voice. "It was _the_ talk, you know? He wanted to make sure I'm educated and... um. Safe." Blaine could practically hear the blush spreading on Kurt's face right now. It was adorable. "And that we... respect each other. I wouldn't be surprised if he planned to deliver this speech to you, too, at some point. He did ask how your parents take your being gay and us dating."

"Oh." Blaine couldn't decide if he was more terrified or moved. "They don't know. About us. And I'm sure they'd rather it stayed that way."

"I guessed so." The affection in Kurt's tone felt like a hug. "Anyway, he said you're always welcome here. As long as the door to my bedroom stays open."

"Oh. Good." That was a relief. Not that Blaine worried about it too much – he'd met Burt Hummel before and admired his relationship with Kurt, his acceptance. Still, it was great to know they were okay.

Kurt hummed in the speaker, and then his voice took on that teasing, faux-strict tone. "Now, let's discuss the rules concerning hickeys."


	10. Chapter 10

Having a boyfriend was the best feeling in the world.

Ever since Kurt had said _yes_ , Blaine felt as if he had his own little sunshine factory somewhere inside his chest. He woke up with a smile every morning, eager to get to school and see Kurt again. There was more bounce in his step and new energy in his muscles. Even his head felt exceptionally clear and focused – except for the moments when Kurt distracted him, which he did regularly with the smallest gestures and the most innocent words.

His nights belonged to Kurt, too. He could no longer remember a time when he hadn't dreamt of Kurt every night – either normal dreams with their surreal dream logic that fled in the morning, leaving behind abstract, vague memories, or, sometimes, just glimpses, out of context pictures that stayed with him for days afterwards. A couple of times Blaine experienced a weird sense of déjà vu in completely innocuous situations – a feeling like he must have already seen Kurt in this particular blue shirt and black vest combo, illuminated by the sudden ray of pale March sunshine; must have had the quick kiss on the lips in the middle of Dalton's mostly empty library when he leaned in to fix Kurt's crooked tie.

Except he was pretty sure he hadn't.

He didn't dwell on it too much, though – not when every moment spent with his boyfriend was so wonderful it took his breath away.

It felt ridiculous, how not that long ago he had believed that he could be a danger to Kurt, that his instincts or the mark on his skin could push him to do something forceful or ungentlemanly. It couldn't be further from the truth. There was physical desire, of course – he was a teenage boy with an incredibly hot boyfriend, after all – but mostly, what he felt for Kurt was gentle and tender, protective even. He just wanted Kurt to be happy.

Which was what led him to this very moment in the Warblers practice – facing the befuddled council, heart pounding with excitement. The first half of his idea had been decided, his dual lead for Regionals suggestion accepted. It was time to move to the second, more significant part.

He waited for the noise of conversation to die down a little, but as soon as the the topic of auditions was raised, he spoke up.

"No, no auditions. I want to sing the duet–" the dramatic pause was probably unnecessary, but he couldn't stop himself. "With Kurt."

Only then did he look to his right where his boyfriend sat on the other couch (they'd learned early on that the only way not to get completely distracted during practice was to sit separately), and the stunned look on Kurt's face made him grin. He hadn't known of Blaine's plans. It was a _thank-you-for-the-two-weeks-together_ surprise.

Except something wasn't right.

A murmur was rising in the room, a few faces  at the back clearly upset, angry even, and Blaine could hear at least one _Of course he'd choose his boyfriend_. But... didn't they realize how amazing Kurt's voice was? How well they sounded together?

Blaine raised his hands in a placating gesture and waited until the room was quiet.

"Gentlemen. I know what it looks like, but hear me out. I have a particular song in mind: _Perfect_. It would fit perfectly with _Raise Your Glass_. This way we can build our setlist on Pink's songs. And since I've sung this one with Kurt already –"

"Of course you did," someone behind him muttered.

"– and I know that our voices go together really well, and we have good chemistry–" some sniggers and groans from the back of the room, and Blaine actually stopped talking and looked around. The group of boys closest to him and Kurt – mostly freshmen and sophomores who always eagerly followed his lead – were smiling and nodding in agreement, but they were the only ones. Behind them, the older Warblers didn't look impressed at all. Blaine tried to keep the confidence and authority in his voice as he asked. "Anyone in favor of Kurt being my duet partner at Regionals?&quot

The number of raised hands was smaller than he'd expected. Eventually, it was only Thad's hesitant support that decided the matter. Wes smiled stiffly and struck his gavel.

"Decided. Congratulations, Kurt."

 

"You shouldn't have done it, Blaine. It was a lovely gesture, and you're an amazing boyfriend, but you shouldn't have antagonized them like that."

Blaine shrugged, pushing away the uneasy feeling he'd had in his stomach since leaving the practice. "What are you talking about? They voted in your favor."

"Just barely. And they didn't like it at all. I'm new, and I'm your boyfriend. I wouldn't be given this opportunity in normal circumstances. It doesn't seem fair."

"But your voice is amazing, Kurt. And we're going to kill this song. They will love us for this when we win Regionals, you'll see."

Kurt didn't look entirely convinced.

 

Making Kurt happy had officially become Blaine's new favorite pastime.

There was something in the way Kurt's face lit up with joy and wonder, in his most genuine, uncontained smile that showed his teeth and made his eyes crinkle, that felt like the biggest prize in the world. How could he worry about anything – another argument with his father or one more anxiety attack for no apparent reason – when Kurt looked at him with such open adoration, as if Blaine was the best thing that happened to him in a long time; when he whispered _thank you_ and kissed his cheek.

There were so many opportunities to show Kurt how important he was; so many moments, little and big, that made Blaine's heart sing.

Soothing Kurt's nerves before they went onstage at Regionals. Seeing him shine bright when they sang – not ostensibly to each other, but in Blaine's head, so very much so. Holding his hand when it turned out that no matter how good they were, New Directions won with their original songs. Having flowers delivered to Kurt's house, just because, and then listening to his delighted, breathless voice telling him how much he loved the gesture. Spending an hour pointing out every little thing that he loved about Kurt, when his boyfriend had a bad day. Talking until Kurt fell asleep on the phone one night, then just listening to him breathe, imagining how it would feel to be there, so close, with Kurt's breath ghosting over his skin and his warmth seeping into Blaine's body.

Blaine had never felt so appreciated before. So _wanted_. He was almost afraid to think it but he felt... loved. And it felt better than he'd ever believed possible.

Being with Kurt, seeing each other every day at school and still going on dates or just hanging out afterwards, spending so much of his time either _with_ Kurt or at least in the blissful awareness that he was close, somewhere in the same building, almost within reach – it was amazing. A dream come true. Blaine felt so, _so_ lucky.

He should have known it was too perfect to last.

***

Kurt hadn't even stopped and thought before asking Blaine to come to the Night of Neglect concert with him and support his McKinley friends, but now, as they were walking through the school, he was wondering if it hadn't been a mistake. It was the first time visiting his old school since he'd transferred, and showing Blaine around, pointing out places that mattered to him and reminiscing about favorite moments made the melancholy and longing flare in Kurt's chest.

Of course, so many of his McKinley memories were painful and bitter, but it seemed to only make the bright, happy ones stand out more, vividly colorful in sharp relief. This was a place that he both hated and loved, a place where he'd been bullied for years for who he was – but where he could actually _be_ who he was, head held high in defiance and every outfit a statement. Yes, he'd had to scream to be heard – but at least he _could_ scream, didn't have to dial down his personality and his attitude to fit in better. He missed that. Not all the time, especially not now that he had Blaine, but there were moments when it ached, deep and unrelenting.

Like right now.

And he tried not to let it show, but he must have because Blaine was looking at him, sweetly concerned and so beautiful.

"Aww, you miss them."

And Kurt didn't even have to answer because Blaine knew, he got it, even if he didn't understand, even if it made him sad to see Kurt pine over his old school and old friends. He got it and his expression was resigned, yes, but mostly just accepting – not upset or betrayed like Kurt thought it would be if Blaine knew.

He had no time to contemplate it, though, because just then life decided to remind him why exactly he'd left McKinley in the first place.

Karofsky was as hulky and menacing as ever, scowling and snapping at them, but surprisingly – maybe because of the respite, the distance Dalton had allowed Kurt for the last few months, or because he had Blaine by his side – it was no longer so scary. The bully seemed smaller somehow, ineffectual, like a dog that could only bark because it was too terrified to come close enough to actually bite.

Except Blaine – kind, dapper Blaine – clearly didn't see it the same way because suddenly he was right there, pushing Karofsky away, hard. Fury was flashing over his face – and, shockingly, flooding Kurt's mind, and it felt so crazy, impossible, feeling emotions that so very obviously weren't his, that he didn't even try to react, momentarily paralyzed. The fact that Santana appeared when she did and discharged the situation before it got out of control was a minor miracle because Kurt was pretty sure it would turn ugly really fast otherwise.

 

He was fine until they were seated in the almost empty auditorium, listening to Tina sing. But then he started trembling – just internally, a slight vibration spreading under his skin, then growing deeper, until his heart seemed to stutter and his breath came in shallow, hitching puffs of air – and he couldn't _stop_. The visions of what could have so easily happened, and the feeling like he was losing control over his mind... it was too much, too sudden, utterly overwhelming.

Of course, he knew – it was easy enough to guess – that picking up Blaine's emotions must have been just another effect of his mark, one that he'd have to analyze and get used to at some point. It made sense, given the level of connection they shared – or, at least, that he seemed to have to Blaine. It was just... terrifying. Control was something Kurt didn't give up easily. Or ever, really.

Blaine kept looking at him all through the concert but didn't ask anything, just took his ice-cold hand and held it, never letting go, and if there were moments when it felt like an anchor, a lifeline – well, Kurt wasn't going to tell anyone. But he didn't have to say anything for Blaine to know that something was wrong.

 

Blaine waited until they were safely parked in a darkened spot at the end of Kurt's street before he turned to Kurt and spoke, his face solemn.

"Kurt, I'm sorry. I know I upset you earlier, and I've never wanted to do that. It's just, when I saw _him_ , when I remembered what he did, what _else_ he threatened to do... I snapped. He hurt you, repeatedly, he _hurt you_ , Kurt, and I can't–" Blaine's breath hitched and he paused for a while, just breathing heavily. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet and tight, but calm. "I _hate_ him. I've never hated anyone like this, Kurt, not even the bullies back at my old school. But _him_ – I felt my blood _boil_ when I saw him. Still, I should have controlled myself better, and I'm sorry."

_Oh._

Kurt took Blaine's hand, his thumb starting the soothing strokes over the back of it on instinct.

"It's okay. I just... I got scared. He's so much bigger than you, if he hit you... I can't stand the thought of you getting hurt."

Blaine chuckled, a surprising little outburst of sound.

"You know, I may be small, but I doubt he would be able to hurt me. I box, Kurt. And I bet I'm faster than him, not to mention more flexible. You don't have to worry about me. But I should have thought before reacting. I just... I'm _crazy_ about you, Kurt. It makes me reckless sometimes and –"

He didn't get to finish because suddenly Kurt was in his lap, kissing him like a starving man, and he didn't even remember how he got there, his body just _moved_. Never mind the mind-boggling new discovery of picking up emotions, that could wait. Kissing Blaine couldn't, they only had a few minutes left until Kurt's curfew and Blaine had just said the most amazing thing ever and this was the best way Kurt knew to react without telling him, clear and loud and entirely too soon, how much he loved him.

They'd been really careful not to get carried away again since that day at his house two weeks ago, and they hadn't really had time to be alone much anyway, which only meant they were _starved_ for each other now. It was so easy and so wonderful to let himself slip just a little, and then a little bit more, and it wasn't until he heard Blaine's sharp intake of breath that Kurt realized that his shirt was half-open.

And that Blaine was staring, eyes wide and shocked, at the vicinity of his left collarbone.

_Oh shit._

"N-no, Blaine, I promise it's not what it looks like, it's not a tattoo, I wouldn't, I... I know it's weird, just let me explain–" His voice was high and panicked, words falling together in a rush, but it was no use. Blaine let out a faint, shaky _Oh my god_ before pushing Kurt gently away, back to the passenger's seat.

"Please– You have to believe me–" Kurt didn't care that he sounded like he was begging because he _was_ , desperate to fix it, tears stinging his eyes, but Blaine just shook his head.

"Kurt. Wait." And then he was tugging at his own his shirt for some reason, and Kurt's curfew alarm was blaring, and he reached for the phone blindly, just to make it shut up, _not now_ , but couldn't find it in the half-darkness. When he finally did and turned the alarm off, and looked back up at Blaine, he was blinded by... skin. So much skin, bare and tanned, Blaine's stomach toned and flat with just the barest hint of softness around his bellybutton, and it looked positively _lickable_ and Kurt gasped – and then gasped again when his eyes slid down to the sharp jut of Blaine's hipbones and he caught a glimpse of something darker, a familiar shade of brown that looked almost like –

Hands shaking, he reached to switch on the light and... yes, he hadn't imagined it. There, plain as day, shocking and real and possibly the most breathtaking thing Kurt had ever seen, his own name curved gently over Blaine's left hipbone.


	11. Chapter 11

Whenever Kurt dared to imagine that Blaine might have a mark, _his_ mark – yes, he did fantasize about that sometimes, so sue him – he never actually thought of where it would be. It was always some nondescript stretch of skin, the placement didn't seem important. But now... now, seeing his name right over the waist of Blaine's black jeans, two simple words nestled comfortably just over his hipbone, made Kurt's brain melt a little. It looked so intimate there, so... at home, and his breath quickened at the thought of curling his hand over the warm-brown letters in a gentle caress or a hard squeeze, of tracing it with his tongue. His hands itched to touch.

He didn't let them. Not tonight, not right when he had to go – he wouldn't be able to leave if he touched. He'd never want to _stop_ touching. And tonight, there was no way to negotiate his curfew. It was Friday, and the family dinner, and he'd promised his dad he would be back on time. So if he wanted to go out anywhere at all during the weekend, he had to go home. Right now.

Still, there was so much to say, and so many questions to ask, and he hadn't even processed it yet, and–

"How long?" His own voice sounded foreign to his ears, and Blaine's face was stunned, full of wonder.

"Since... around Christmas."

"Me too." They looked at each other, as if seeing for the first time. Kurt felt dizzy. "God, we need to talk about it. We need to... so much. But I have to go."

Blaine cleared his throat, licked his lips, just the tip of his tongue darting out. He still looked dazed. "Tomorrow. We can talk tomorrow. And I'll call you tonight. Or you call. Or..."

"I'll call you as soon as I can." With one quick kiss, not giving himself time to linger, Kurt was out of the car and fixing his shirt as he walked fast towards the house.

 

  
The dinner felt like it would never end. Usually Kurt didn't mind the leisurely conversations at the table, the chance to catch up with everyone at the end of the week – it felt nice, after years of being alone with his dad. But tonight he was distracted and kind-of-very-much in a hurry to flee to his room, and the long rant Finn was delivering about whatever their football coach did today was making him squirm and want to press fast forward. He zoned out, remembering the exact shade of brown on Blaine's skin – _was it darker than his own mark, or was it just the poor light in the car?_ – until he heard Carole's cheerful voice.

"All right then, let's clean up, and then we can all watch it."

"Watch what?" Kurt jerked back to reality.

"The movie, of course. _When Harry Met Sally_? We were just talking how we haven't seen it in years, weren't you listening?"

His heart sank. " _Oh_. No, I was, I just– I kind of wanted–"

"Oh come on, buddy, family time!" His dad chimed in. "Didn't you tell me it was one of your favorite movies? All the gushing about Meg Ryan and happy endings? Come on, help me with those dishes."

It was going to be the longest evening ever.

  
  
It was nearly midnight by the time Kurt found himself in bed, the door to his room safely closed and the phone in his hand. Blaine picked up after the first signal.

"Oh thank god, I was afraid you were freaking out." He sounded as if he'd been asleep already and Kurt felt a pang of guilt. He really should have found a way to call earlier.

"Sorry, this took longer than I expected. _Eons_ longer. But no, I'm not freaking out, are you?"

"No, Kurt. I'm not." Blaine's voice was warm and solemn. "I'm good. _Really_ good."

Well that was a relief. Blaine hadn't _looked_ freaked out, back in the car, but that was hours ago, and it was a _lot_ to take in. Kurt knew, he'd just spent most of the movie quietly exploding with feelings. Mostly good ones.

There was a rustle of fabric and a muffled yawn in the speaker, and Kurt smiled fondly.

"Do you want to go to sleep?"

Blaine hummed and Kurt could almost see him, sleepy and adorable. "I don't want to but I'm losing the battle. Lunch tomorrow, like we planned? And then talk?"

"Yeah, that sounds good. See you at noon?"

"Mm, noon. Goodnight, Kurt."

"Goodnight." He was just about to hang up when Blaine added softly.

"Wait, would you... um, could you send me a picture of... of your mark? I'd like to be able to look at it in the morning when I wake up thinking it was just a dream."

Kurt smiled, breath catching in his throat a little. "Only if you send me yours."

Two minutes later, his screen was filled with olive skin and the warm sepia tones of his own name (and yes, it was minutely darker than the letters on his own skin, he checked), and he couldn't stop himself from stroking it with trembling fingers. His heart was going a mile a minute. It was _real_. It was _perfect_.

He was still clutching his phone and smiling dreamily when he fell asleep.

***

  
Blaine put away the book, glanced at the clock and unlocked his phone for what felt like the hundredth time this morning, just to look at that picture again. He knew it by heart by now, every little detail of it, and yet he couldn't resist. The shock of his own handwriting ( _so rough, so imperfect – why has he never taken the time to develop nicer handwriting?_ ) on the canvas of Kurt's smooth pale skin still made his breath hitch a little, and seeing his name there, as if he _signed_ Kurt, gave him some kind of weird, swoopy feeling in his chest.

There was Kurt's collarbone in the picture, too, the delicate curve of bone and the hollow above, a gentle play of light and shadow. And the fact that Kurt's fingers made it to the picture was another little thrill. Blaine knew it was probably because he was holding his shirt out of the way, but it looked like Kurt had just been stroking the mark.

Thinking about stroking Kurt's mark was a sure way to get very, very distracted.

  
  
It felt like forever, but finally it was time to go.

They'd agreed to meet at the new salad bar they wanted to try, roughly halfway between their houses, and when Blaine pulled into the parking lot a little early, Kurt was already there, leaning against his car. He walked over and gestured for Blaine to lower his window as soon as he parked.

"Hi!" Kurt sounded a little breathless, eyes wide and bottom lip bitten, and Blaine had to kiss him right then. Kurt laughed when they parted. " _Oh_. Hi. So, how hungry are you?"

"Hardly, why?" He'd barely been able to eat any breakfast, his stomach full of butterflies and anticipation.

"How about we skip lunch? I don't think I can eat anything anyway, I just want to–" _Talk. See. Touch._ Blaine knew. "I mean... if you don't mind? I wanted to be patient, I really did, I promise, but... god, Blaine, _you have my name on your skin_."

Yeah. That about summed up Blaine's feeling too.

" _God yes_. We can go to my house right away, instead?"

Kurt frowned. "Won't your parents mind?"

Blaine laughed and shook his head. Right, Kurt didn't know how his family worked. "They won't even notice. I don't know if my father is home, but if he is, I doubt he'll peek out of the office until dinner, and my mom is out doing... I don't even know what today, one of her many clubs. We can hole up in my room. And close the door."

"Oh." The blush that blossomed high on Kurt's cheeks told Blaine he understood the implications perfectly. "Okay. Lead the way."

  
  
Imagining it was one thing, but actually having Kurt in his room, with his door closed and, as it turned out, no one home, was immediately distracting. They started kissing as soon as they entered the room, all impatient lips and searching hands, and it wasn't long before Blaine found himself gravitating towards the hem of Kurt's steel blue sweater. Kurt shivered and broke the kiss when Blaine's hands slid under the soft fabric and to the cotton of the t-shirt underneath.

"Weren't we supposed to talk?" He didn't pull away though. "If we don't stop, we'll end up shirtless and–" He swallowed, his fingers flexing at the small of Blaine's back.

"Can we?" It was daring, and probably too forward, and Blaine hoped he wasn't wrong when he thought he saw the same yearning flickering in Kurt's eyes that he felt himself. "Not to _do_ anything, just... to see. I want to hold you, and I want to see my name on your skin when we talk. I promise, I'll be good–"

A short burst of laughter. "Don't say it like you think I'm afraid of you. I'm not. And... yes, I want to see, too."

They undressed each other slowly, almost reverently, layer after layer until there was nothing but skin and they both stared then, eyes wide and hungry because... _so much_. Not just the marks, though they pulled focus immediately, but... everything. Blaine couldn't stop, couldn't look away from Kurt's smooth skin, his dusky pink nipples, his trim waist over the snug fit of his pants. And, yes, the brown letters right under his collarbone.

"May I–?"

"Yes." They were both breathless, and Blaine's fingers were trembling as he reached and brushed lightly, barely there, over the mark. Kurt's gasp made him look up, concerned.

"What does it feel like?"

Kurt just put his hand on Blaine's hip, the heat bleeding through the fabric, and slowly stroked his thumb over his own name. Sparks danced under the marked patch of skin. Kurt smiled. "Like this."

For a moment, they just stood, eyes and hands on each other. Blaine was the first to recover.

"Okay, talking. Can we... on the bed?"

  
  
They ended up lying on their sides, a foot apart, their hands linked between them.

"So, am I right to assume that we both know a little about them?" Kurt started, gesturing to his mark.

"As much as can be found on the internet: First observed some eight months ago, fairly unusual but appearing randomly all over the world, origin and function unknown, if there is any. They don't seem to pose a threat to the bearer's health–"

Kurt nodded. "It's always a name, though it's unclear why a particular name on a particular person. But it's extremely rare for it to be mutual, you know."

Blaine shook his head. "Not anymore."

"What do you mean?" Kurt frowned.

"I had too much time last night, waiting for your call, so I went and researched some more. Apparently, the number of people with these marks is steadily growing, and matches are happening more and more often. If someone knows the person whose name appeared on their body, chances are the other person also has the mark. Not always, but it's not so rare anymore."

"Oh." Kurt looked like he was pondering something. "That would explain–"

"Explain what?"

Kurt sat up and reached into his bag by the bed for his phone.

"Give me a second." He was already choosing a number, his face focused. Blaine faintly heard a girl's voice from the speaker when the call connected. "Tina, hi! Listen, can I talk to Blaine about what you told me in Rachel's laundry room? I'll make sure he won't tell anyone." Blaine arched his eyebrow, curious. Kurt was nodding and rolling his eyes. "Yes, okay, I will, I promise. Next week. Okay, thank you. I love you too!"

"What was _that_ about?" Blaine asked as Kurt put away his phone and settled back against the pillows.

"Just something she told me in secret. I didn't want to speak about it without her permission but... she and Mike have each other's names, too."

"Oh wow, really? Nice!" Blaine grinned. He liked both of them, and they were an adorable couple.

"It fits with what you found out, doesn't it? That it's happening more often now. I mean, at least two couples in Lima alone? Or, well, the Lima area."

"Two couples _we know of_ ; there can easily be more. I imagine most people don't tell anyone since it's so weird." Blaine said.

Kurt nodded. "True. I didn't."

"Me neither."

"Tina will pull it out of me though." Kurt winced. "She's already suspicious because I knew what it was when I saw Mike's name on her wrist. Do you mind if I tell her?"

"Not at all." Blaine smiled and found Kurt's hand again, his thumb stroking over the pulse point. "Her wrist then? It's interesting, how those marks form in different places. There are so many questions no one seems to be able to answer yet."

"Yeah." They were both silent for a moment, just looking at each other, before Kurt cleared his throat and asked. "So, have you noticed anything... unusual, since the name appeared?" He reached to trace the letters with his finger and Blaine hummed at the sensation.

"You mean... like the sudden increase in the intensity of your touch?"

Kurt laughed. "Oh yes. I thought I'd jump out of my skin when you touched my hand for the first time after Christmas."

"Oh my god, in the Lima Bean?" Blaine's jaw dropped a little. Wow, he hadn't thought about it earlier, but so many moments looked different now, through the filter of knowledge. Kurt's behavior, his reactions... _wow_.

"Oh, so you remember, too. Yes, then. The pull towards you was unbearable; it took me _weeks_ to get used to it." Kurt was blushing, smiling bashfully. He looked adorable.

"Tell me about it." Blaine nodded, frowning as a thought occurred to him. "Although now I'll be forever unsure whether you like me because of me, or it's just the side effect of this weird mutation."

Now that he thought about it, it stung. Hard.

Kurt's snort surprised him, as did the soft kiss on the lips that followed. Kurt kept his hand on Blaine's cheek when he pulled away and looked him in the eyes, his voice soft. "I was already in love with you before it appeared, silly."

Blaine's breath hitched. It was suddenly hard to speak in more than a whisper. "Oh, so I wasn't the only one..."

And then they were kissing, slow and deep, luxurious. Kissing like this – on the bed, when they had time and there was no risk of anyone walking in because his parents never did – felt even better than before. The knowledge of each other's marks and feelings made everything so much _more_. It required heroic efforts of will not to follow Kurt's lips when he pulled away.

Kurt was saying something and Blaine had to blink a few times before he managed to focus on the words.

"... the emotions sharing thing? It freaked me out last night."

Kurt shuddered and Blaine automatically reached to stroke his arm in comfort, even as the cogs in his brain kept whirring, trying to make sense of what he heard, without much success.

"What do you mean?"

Kurt frowned. "Oh, you don't... um. It's like... last night, when you pushed Karofsky, I could _feel_ your anger. Not just from outside, because I saw it – I literally _felt_ it, like it was my own. I think it was because you felt it so strongly, and I was so close? I don't know, but it was... scary. Like my mind wasn't mine anymore."

Something clicked in Blaine's memory. "Wait. _Waaaaait_. Back at the GAP. When I was singing to Jeremiah." Kurt groaned and hid his face in the pillow, but Blaine squeezed his hand urgently. "No, really. It's important. You were upset, weren't you? _Really_ upset."

"No kidding." Kurt mumbled into the pillow.

"So _that's_ why I stopped!" Blaine felt – and sounded – awed. Kurt turned his head at last to look at him.

"What do you mean?"

"I couldn't continue, I got so _upset_ all of a sudden, it was... overwhelming. I just stopped because it was too much, and then _it_ stopped. So that was it? I channeled your feelings?"

"Huh. Looks like it." Kurt's eyes were wide, wondering.

"Wow."

"Yeah." Kurt shook his head. "This connection is getting crazier the more we learn." Kurt murmured. "I wonder..." He paused and bit his lip. Blaine leaned in and kissed it until Kurt let it go.

"Wonder what?" He asked.

"It's just... something Tina said. Probably nothing important."

Blaine cupped Kurt's cheek and kissed him again. It was getting harder not to. "Can you tell me anyway?"

"Can't you just keep kissing me?" Blaine laughed and made a show of pulling further away until Kurt pouted and sighed dramatically. "Okay, okay. It was just an interpretation of this whole name-on-your-skin thing, I guess. Apparently, some people in the Asian community believe that when two people have each other's marks, it means that they're... soulmates. Destined to be together. But it's just guesswork, it doesn't mean anything. I mean, even scientists don't know at this point, do they?"

Kurt was blushing now, looking away. Blaine felt the word settle in his mind, warm and comfortable, as if it always belonged there.

"Hmm. _Soulmates_... I like this interpretation."

Kurt's eyes flitted back to him, incredulous. "You do?"

"I really do." He leaned over, back to Kurt's lips, only to kiss his mark instead. Kurt gasped softly and wound his fingers in Blaine's hair, holding him there. Blaine laughed softly against the warm skin. "End of talking?"

"Mhm. Shh, kiss me."

  
  
They were alone. They had a bed and the rare luxury of time, and all that naked skin to explore, reactions to learn, sounds to kiss off each other's mouth. Blaine held back at first, careful not to push anything, but Kurt was eager and willing, fingers and lips everywhere he could reach, and soon they fell into each other, skin on skin, touching and kissing and tasting, and oh, it was _divine_.

_No hickeys in visible places_ , that was the rule, but no one said anything against those that were safely hidden under clothes most of the time. The ridge of Kurt's collarbone just above the mark was perfect – _perfect_ – and Blaine nearly growled when he pulled away and saw the series of little red marks surrounding his name. They said _mine_ , confirmed what the letters spelled, and _wow_ , who would have thought he had a possessive streak?

Kurt kept squirming and moaning quietly as Blaine lavished him with attention, hands and lips exploring all of the exposed skin but always coming back to Kurt's mark to stroke, trace, kiss. And then suddenly the world tilted and Blaine found himself on his back, pinned to the bed by his boyfriend's weight.  

Kurt took full advantage of his new position, letting his hands roam while he kissed Blaine languidly, his tongue hot and sure as it stroked its way in and out of Blaine's mouth. When Kurt moved to suck at his neck next, Blaine whimpered, and then he couldn't stop whimpering as Kurt moved slowly, maddeningly lower, his fingers never leaving the mark over Blaine's hipbone, sending sparks of arousal everywhere.

And then Kurt's tongue flicked over a nipple, just curious little licks, and Blaine gasped and arched and suddenly everything was so much – _too much, too close_ – as Kurt's hard length pressed against his own. He didn't even realize he flipped them until they were on their sides, both panting and flushed, a few blessed inches of space between them.

"Sorry. That was too soon, I got carried away." Kurt was the first to recover, before Blaine managed to untangle himself from the mix of emotions and sensations. His own reaction surprised him. He'd thought he was ready and open to everything, that Kurt would be the one to go slow. _Huh_.

"No, it's okay." He breathed out. "We both got a little too caught up in it."

"Cool off?" Kurt was smiling, not freaked out at all, maybe just a little shy.

"Yeah, good idea." Blaine reached for his undershirt, found Kurt's T-shirt instead and passed it to him before going back to his search. A moment later, they were both somewhat covered and the urgency, the desperate _need_ to be closer had passed.

And then Kurt's stomach rumbled.

Blaine grinned. "How about that lunch now?"

Kurt pressed a kiss to his lips, short and sweet. "Mm, yes please. Turns out talking makes me hungry."


	12. Chapter 12

Kurt felt it like a current running through the school.

His senses had been sharpened over the years, fine tuned to detect hostility, tension, everything that so often led to violence, so he was instantly aware of the change in the way some Dalton students looked at him.

He'd never been particularly popular, or even really liked since he'd transferred – he was the new kid; he hadn't earned anything more than neutral acknowledgement yet, maybe tinged with a little curiosity. A few of the more outgoing Warblers, including the council members, had been nice to him from the beginning, but apart from Blaine, everyone mostly left him alone.

And then he and Blaine – the cherished leader, the wildly popular _darling_ of the Warblers – became boyfriends. It swayed the dynamics a little. Many of Blaine's avid supporters and followers (although _fans_ really felt like a better word in some cases) suddenly acted like Kurt's new best friends, his relationship with their idol enough for them to warm up to him. Not that Kurt minded, of course – it was nice to have more people to talk to at school, especially since he and Blaine didn't share any classes.

Some of the Warblers' reactions were the polar opposite, though – a barely concealed dislike, as if it offended them that he just swooped in and snatched the best catch in school. And most of these guys weren't even gay.

But it was just gentle waves in the social pool compared to what happened after Regionals.

Okay, nothing actually _happened_ – everything was so subtle that Kurt doubted most people noticed it at all; Blaine certainly didn't. Dalton was a zero-tolerance school, after all. The students were all classy and polite, at least on school grounds where Kurt saw them. (He always wondered if the attitude carried over when they were at home, too, or if some of them, say, tortured small animals in secret to decompress.) Had it been McKinley, the amount of hostility Kurt detected in the air would lead to a close encounter with a dumpster, or maybe a porta-potty. Because, well, it was all Kurt's fault, wasn't it?

Everyone at Dalton staunchly believed that the Warblers – their pride and joy, the rockstars of the school – deserved to go to Nationals. And the only reason they wouldn't was because – as rumor had it – the judges decided one of their songs was _too gay_ , that they were sending the _wrong message_ to all the good girls and boys everywhere.

And of course, the song was only gay because Kurt sang it with Blaine. Because Blaine demanded a duet for them. Because he was Blaine's boyfriend.

The result didn't seem to be much more than palpable tension around him, and a whispered comment here and there – nothing violent, or threatening. Kurt could live with it – shrug it off, keep to Blaine and their group of Warbler friends – but deep down, it hurt more than he was ready to admit.

One more place he didn't fit in. A safe, tolerant place – and yet.

What did it say about him?

  
  
  
When a chance to transfer was set in front of Kurt like a pardon cancelling his sentence, he didn't have to think too long.

His first reaction was one of joy and relief – but then came the guilt. It wasn't fair of him to think of leaving Dalton so readily; not when it had given him so much, in spite of everything – safety and escape, and most of all, Blaine. Sweet, gorgeous, loving Blaine who carried Kurt's name under his clothes, who was in love with him, and always did everything to make him happy. _His_ Blaine, who looked so brokenhearted when Kurt told him about the possibility of transferring back, but quickly covered it with a smile and a hug, and _I will support your decision, as long as you're safe_ whispered into his ear.

Blaine was the only reason Kurt would consider staying at Dalton.

But the arguments supporting the transfer were overwhelming – even if he ignored his own longing after his Glee club friends and how much he wanted to go to New York with them, Kurt knew that his family couldn't really afford Dalton tuition. Every additional month was a financial burden that he could take off their shoulders now that the reason for his leaving McKinley seemed to be gone. The way he never felt welcome at Dalton anymore was just the last straw.

And Blaine understood. Blaine supported him, and encouraged him, and assured him that they would still have afternoons and weekends, that they would be fine. And perhaps this hurt the most – because Kurt could feel Blaine's fear and his misery sometimes, despite the optimistic words. When they were close and he really focused, Kurt could feel the faint echoes of Blaine's emotions, held in check, and yet spiking out of control every now and then. And the awareness that he was causing Blaine pain was much worse than suffering himself.

In a moment of despair, during those few days when he struggled with the decision, Kurt asked Tina for an opinion. He'd finally told her about their marks a week before, and she was the only person he knew who would really understand the dilemma.

But he shouldn't have bothered.

"Of course you should stay at Dalton. Your place is by your soulmate's side, Kurt." Tina said with a firm conviction that ruffled Kurt's feathers immediately.

"Okay, first of all, no one has confirmed the marks really mean soulmates." She rolled her eyes, but Kurt held up his hand to stop her from interrupting. "And second of all, do you think I _want_ to be away from him? But if we're destined to be together, we will survive no matter what, right? And it's not like we won't be able to see each other. Maybe not every day but–"

He swallowed, the thought making him feel a little dizzy. Since they'd become boyfriends, they hadn't spent a single day without seeing each other.

"I don't know why you're asking me when you've clearly made your decision already." She huffed. "Do what you have to do. But it will hurt, you know."

Kurt groaned. "Of course it will. Do you think I don't know that?"

"No, Kurt, I mean _literally_. Mike goes away with his parents two weekends a month. And it hurts. It physically hurts when you can't be close to your soulmate. You'll see."

Oh great. Like it wasn't going to be hard enough.

***

  
There were moments when Blaine felt like he was drowning.

It wasn't like he hadn't seen it coming. From the moment he saw the longing in Kurt's eyes at the Night of Neglect concert, he'd known deep down that Kurt would return to McKinley. He just never expected it to happen so soon, right in the middle of this newfound, delirious happiness – and it felt like the ground went out from under him.

But Kurt's eyes were shining, his excitement radiating out of him at the thought of rejoining his friends, and in the end _that_ was what counted. As long as it was safe for him back at McKinley, Blaine would support anything that made his boyfriend that happy. _If_ it was safe.

He had his doubts.

He didn't trust Karofsky, not one bit. He didn't believe in his sudden change of heart, and didn't share Kurt's belief that Santana will be able to keep him in check. Frankly, he didn't want Karofsky in the same _town_ as Kurt, let alone the same building, and the thought of them actually interacting literally made him see red. So he tried very hard not to think about it with Kurt around – he wasn't sure how this whole emotions-sharing worked, but he couldn't risk Kurt picking up on one of his worse moments. Blaine was supposed to support him, not make this harder for him. And since he couldn't, say, _eliminate_ Karofsky somehow, he had to trust Kurt's judgment and send him on his way. Let him go.

Kurt seemed surprised when Blaine didn't argue the matter. But Blaine knew it was no use, so he simply focused on making as many happy memories as he could in the too-short moments they had together that week. They talked, they sang, they laughed. They kissed whenever they could get away with it, the urgency palpable now that the separation, even if unspoken, was imminent. A few times during the week Kurt gave him that _look_ , as if he was trying to see through him, and Blaine felt momentarily bad for hiding his feelings. But what was the point of letting out the hurt and fear, of telling Kurt about the anxiety that seemed to always sit there now, at the bottom of his stomach? It would only make him feel worse about transferring, and Blaine couldn't do that to him.

  
  
And then it was Friday evening after everything was decided, and they were in Kurt's bedroom, the door open and his family downstairs. Kurt's face was paler than usual, his eyes too shiny, and he was holding onto Blaine's hand like a lifeline.

"God, I know it's the right thing to do, the only rational decision – I _know_ that. So why does it feel like I'm doing something awful and unforgivable?"

_So stay. Stay with me._ Blaine didn't let the words slip out of his mouth, only squeezed Kurt's hand and pulled him into a hug, gathering him close against his shoulder, a familiar, comforting presence. He didn't trust his voice yet. He felt Kurt shake against him, a quiet sob muffled by his blazer, and tears stung his own eyes, unwelcome. Not yet.

"Hey, you'll be fine. _We_ will be fine." He whispered into Kurt's neck, his voice choked. "We'll see each other every afternoon and spend every weekend together. It's not that far. We'll make it work. It will be alright, Kurt, I love you, it will be alright."

Kurt shook harder and nodded with his face still hidden in the crook of Blaine's neck. His voice was muffled when he spoke. "I love you too. So much."

They sat like this for a long while, just holding each other, drawing comfort from being so close. At some point, Kurt's hand found its way under Blaine's shirt and, blindly, to his mark, and Blaine mirrored his move without thinking. Popping open the top buttons of Kurt's uniform shirt for the last time – the last day of him wearing that uniform – he slipped his fingers there, to find where his name lay, safe and more constant than the life around them. It felt good, reassuring. Grounding.

They had the weekend before them with a lot of time planned together. Even after Kurt went back to McKinley on Monday, they would still be boyfriends, still meet and go on dates, and hang out whenever they could. Blaine knew he would work hard for them to stay close, and he never doubted that Kurt would, too.

But it wouldn't be the same. No matter how much he wanted to believe that they would survive this, life was life. He's seen relationships fail because of distance, even a short one. And he knew that sooner or later, life would get in the way, with extracurriculars and homework and other friends. They would call off one date, then another – and then who knew, really? Sometimes love and dedication weren't enough.

A soft knock on the open door shook them out of the moment. Kurt's stepmother was standing in the doorway.

"Boys? It's dinner time." They parted reluctantly, Kurt's eyes red-rimmed as he tried to compose himself. His stepmother smiled at them softly. "Blaine, will you stay and eat with us?"

He startled, eyebrows shooting up. "But I thought it was family night, I don't want to impose–"

"It is. And you're invited to stay if you want to, if your parents won't mind."

By his side, Kurt gasped softly, his face stunned. Blaine remembered his manners. "They won't. And I'll be delighted to stay, thank you."

Dinner was lovely and not at all awkward like Blaine feared it might be. The only uncomfortable moment came when Finn grumbled about his girlfriends never being invited for Friday dinners, but Kurt's eye roll and his curious question about who the girlfriend was this week quickly dissolved the momentary tension as Finn launched into a monologue about his dating life. It seemed complicated.

Blaine stayed for a movie afterwards, the opportunity to spend some more time with Kurt too tempting to resist. The novelty of sitting close together, holding hands, with Kurt's family _right there_ and so accepting of him was new and intoxicating. When Kurt cuddled into his side and put his head on Blaine's shoulder, it made all of his worries melt away, if only for a while. Kurt's father's _Come over anytime you want_ as Blaine was saying goodbye only strengthened the good feeling.

Not for long, though.

An hour alone in his car on the dark empty road home with only the music for company was enough to seep the warm happiness right out of Blaine's mind. By the time he got up to his room, his heart was heavy, this whole week of suppressing his emotions crashing down on him until he was a miserable sobbing mess, facedown on the bed.

_It wasn't fair_.

Finding Kurt, getting together at last, tasting happiness like he hadn't known before only to lose it now felt like unnecessary cruelty. He didn't _want_ to lose it.

_No_. He refused to give it up.

So... what could he do?

Tears spent, he flipped on the bed and stared at the ceiling, ideas slowly forming in his head.

  
  
Convincing his friends to skip classes in favor of visiting McKinley and helping him serenade Kurt turned out to be surprisingly difficult. Organizing an impromptu practice on Sunday wasn't easy either. In the end, it was only about half of the Warblers that decided to accompany him, and they were all going to be in so much trouble...

But Kurt's stunned, delighted face, and his whispered promise, _I'll never say goodbye to you_ , made it all worth it. One last glance at him, surrounded by friends, bold and unique, and so happy – and Blaine's heart was overflowing, brimming with love and gratefulness. He was lucky to have this amazing boy in his life, and he was going to do anything he needed to keep it that way.

_Anything_.


	13. Chapter 13

The first week apart wasn't even that bad. They texted non-stop, rushed to get together after their respective Glee club practices and talked until they were barely awake every night. Apart from not eating lunch together, or meeting in the mornings for sneaky kisses and hot coffee, it almost felt as if nothing had changed. Well, at least when Blaine managed not to think about the fact that Kurt was miles away instead of right there, in the same building. Which wasn't often. But he did his best.

The second week was harder.

On Tuesday, Kurt had to leave after barely a half hour of their coffee date because he had a History assignment to finish and had to catch up on the recommended reading first. Apparently being enrolled in a different school wasn't enough of an excuse for that particular teacher to grant him an extension.

He looked tired and frazzled on Wednesday, after a night spent hunched over books, so they decided to stay in and watch _The Fellowship Of The Ring_ on Kurt's laptop instead of going out. It felt really nice to just sit on Kurt's bed, with a little mountain of pillows behind them and their sides pressed close together, discussing the visual superiority (or lack thereof) of Legolas over Aragorn. But then Kurt's playful banter grew slower, more slurred, and before the Fellowship even set off to their adventure, Blaine realized that Kurt was asleep. Sitting there with his boyfriend's warm weight against his side, Blaine didn't mind pretending that he was watching the movie while in fact he was focused on Kurt's serene face. But when Mr. Hummel checked in on them and noticed  that Kurt was out cold, it felt weird to stay any longer. Reluctantly, Blaine slipped off the bed, put away the laptop, covered Kurt with a blanket and went home, leaving a piece of paper with a little heart doodle on the pillow.

On Thursday, the Warblers council proposed an impromptu performance at a local community center after their rehearsal, and with a heavy heart, Blaine called Kurt and cancelled their date. The attendance was completely voluntary, of course, but he was their lead singer after all, and it didn't feel right to refuse after all those times they'd supported him in song when he'd asked them. Not to mention, some of the Warblers had been noticeably cooler towards him lately and Blaine felt a pressing need to fix it. Make them like him again. So he went and sang and danced, even though he'd much rather be in Lima with Kurt.

The strange feeling started when he got home that night.

At first he thought it was just another incarnation of the well-known monster. He'd been diagnosed with an anxiety disorder a year ago and even though it had improved over time, it had never gone away. He was used to it flaring periodically, always in new creative ways to get under his skin, and he'd learned to deal with it by now, at least most of the time. But this was unlike any anxiety attack he'd ever had.

It started with restlessness. It came in a sweeping wave and kept him unable to focus on his homework or the book he tried to read; even something as undemanding as watching YouTube videos was out of the question because he couldn't sit still for longer than a minute. He kept zoning out, his thoughts always finding a way to get to one ultimate destination: Kurt.

Of course, they hadn't seen each other all day, and barely exchanged a few sentences on the phone, so it was only natural that between his feelings and the connection their marks provided, Blaine couldn't stop thinking of his boyfriend.

Except it didn't end there. By ten p.m. he was _cold_ – despite turning up the heater and putting on additional layers, he felt as if he'd stayed outside on a cold winter night without a jacket. His skin was warm, and not feverishly so, but none of the heat seemed to register inside, his muscles tense and faint tremors running through his body. He tried crawling under a blanket, but couldn't stand staying motionless and quickly resumed the nervous pacing across the room. Was he getting sick? Was it this flu everyone spoke about?

An hour later he was almost certain it must be because his whole body ached – except it wasn't the usual muscle ache brought on by the flu. This felt different, almost like... over-awareness of every bit of skin and muscle and bone. A deep, annoying feeling like something was wrong with all of it, something lacking, an itch that made him want to rub at his skin – or maybe claw at it, he wasn't sure. It was like a pain that didn't really hurt, but didn't let him forget it even for a second.

By this point, he was sure something was _wrong_ with him. He was falling ill and probably should tell his mom because it was clearly getting worse by the hour. Instead he just wanted to find Kurt – find him and cuddle up with him and wait for it to pass. Kurt would make him feel better. Blaine knew he would.

So he curled in the middle of the bed with his phone, shivering and aching and trying to make himself stay still long enough to make a call, and he whimpered as soon as Kurt picked up.

"Kuuurt, I think I'm dying. I feel awful, I don't know if I can manage to come see you tomorrow and I just _need_ you here..."

"Oh, we _have_ to meet tomorrow." Kurt said and Blaine heard his teeth chatter. The immediate worry almost overrode everything else.

"Are you alright? Did I somehow give you whatever I have?"

Kurt huffed out a mirthless laugh. "You could say that. It's the separation sickness, or at least that's what Tina calls it. Apparently with the marks, our bodies don't like to be away from each other for more than twenty-four hours, or they get out of balance or something. So believe me, I know how you feel."

"Wait, that's... a mark-thing?"

"Yeah. Tina says the first few times are the worst, like... the body goes into withdrawal, but it's not dangerous. It feels terrible, but supposedly it's still possible to function."

Blaine groaned. "How? I feel like I'm falling apart. Will it pass when we meet?"

"She says it clears out quickly with renewed contact, and it dulls when the separation is prolonged."

"I don't _want_ to prolong it, can't we just meet _now_ somehow? I'll come to you, just... _make it stop_."

Kurt let out a pained moan, the sound ripping at Blaine's heart. "I _know_. Believe me, I had the car keys in my hand ten minutes ago, ready to go to you. But it's late and I don't think either of our parents would be too happy about it. We'll have to survive somehow. Sleep should help, right? And if you can somehow skip Warblers practice tomorrow, we're having a performance at McKinley that I think you may like. Not to mention – god, _I want you with me as soon as possible, please don't make me wait till the evening_."

"Oh, you bet I'll be there. If I can survive the whole day at school first."

  
  
Sleep didn't help, not really. Talking to Kurt seemed to settle the worst of his restlessness, as if his body stopped demanding Blaine had to get up and go look for him, so at least he could go to bed. But he got no real rest that night. He kept waking up after minutes of fitful sleep, still aching and chilly, and it took a lot of effort to fall asleep again, only to repeat the cycle moments later. He was exhausted in the morning, slumped heavily under the weight of the sleepless night. The separation symptoms didn't feel as sharp now in the light of day, but they were still overwhelming, an ever-present discomfort. It was going to be a long day.

A hot shower helped some, but then the whole process of getting ready and driving to school lay before Blaine like a long string of impossibly hard tasks, and even though there was hope on the horizon, it didn't really help all that much, considering he had to crawl across the whole vast desert of his school day to get there.

He approached it just like he did the days when his anxiety was the worst: one step at a time. One minute, one task, one tedious conversation in the hallway.

Being busy and focused on something else helped with the achy emptiness crawling under his skin, but _staying_ busy without getting distracted was nearly impossible. He had a test after lunch that he'd studied for last weekend, and it should have been easy, but his mind kept getting away from him no matter how hard he tried. Time ticked away at a deliriously slow speed, from the beginning of his first class until he could get into his car and drive. It felt like forever, like it would never end – until it did.

Blaine was out of the last class of the day and on his way to the parking lot as soon as the final bell rang. He didn't even stop at his locker – there was no use, not when he had no idea what he might need from there, what homework he had, not even what classes were tomorrow. Everything was _Kurt_. He had to go, now – _now_.

He was almost at the door when he very nearly collided with Wes.

"Whoa, Blaine, hey. What's the hurry? Do you need something from your car before practice?"

Blaine groaned, his hand flying up to thread his shaking fingers through his hair – a nervous habit he'd been trying very hard to eliminate because his hair was a total mess when he did that, but even increasing the amount of product didn't help when he had a really bad day. Like today.

"Wes, I'm sorry, I can't... I can't go today, I just... I can't."

He was unable to come up with a decent lie, not when it was so hard to even stand still, his feet trying to get him to run to his car and _go at last_ ; he could just look at Wes, his eyes probably a little wild and pleading. _Don't ask, please just let me go, don't make me stand here a moment longer._ Wes frowned, concerned.

"Are you alright? You don't look too well."

"No. I'm not. I'm sorry Wes, I just..."

"Of course. Go home, get some rest. I hope you feel better by Monday."

He was moving before the _Thank you_ left his mouth; out the door, into the car and off, _off_ – to Lima, to McKinley, to the auditorium where Kurt said he would be.

To Kurt.

  
  
They were already onstage when he sneaked into the auditorium, the whole colorful group of New Directions gathered together, so Blaine had no way to give into what his body wanted – no, demanded: find Kurt, touch him, hold him. Make the world right again.

Quietly, he glided closer to the stage and settled in a chair a few rows from the stage to watch just as Rachel appeared. She was talking, but Blaine couldn't care less about her words because he could finally see Kurt at the back of the group, dressed in black and red, twirling a drum stick between his restless fingers.

Just seeing him was enough to ease the ache and send a wonderful wave of warmth all over Blaine's body. It wasn't nearly enough to make him feel okay again, but it helped. And as Kurt moved to the center of the stage and noticed him, Blaine could clearly see the same relief washing through him. He seemed tense and tightly wound before but now his body went loose, though still in control as he straightened and took position.

From the moment the music started, Blaine was mesmerized. He could see that the separation had affected Kurt as well – he was paler than usual, dark circles under his eyes and hair messier than he'd ever seen it before – but somehow all this only added to the strong, raw presence with which he commanded the stage. And then he started the song, his voice low and slightly rough, and Blaine was done for.

He'd never really had a chance to see Kurt like this before, truly in his element. Yes, he'd sung like an angel at Dalton, but here, in his natural environment, his own clothes – his t-shirt said _Likes Boys_ , for god's sake – among his friends that were so diverse and yet so good together, it was a whole new level of breathtaking. And Blaine fell in love with it on the spot – this bold, stunning boy, so unapologetically himself.

Watching Kurt – all of them, really – in action finally made Blaine begin to understand Kurt's longing to come back. He hadn't comprehended it before – he'd supported the idea because it was important for Kurt, but why exactly his boyfriend would want to return to a place where he'd been tormented and bullied was a mystery to him. Now, seeing this unlikely group of friends perform a song that expressed their individuality – and free to do so just for the fun of it – stirred a strange kind of longing in Blaine's chest.

He hadn't felt it in over a year – this independent streak, the need to express his true self, no matter what others said. The uniformity and safe containment of Dalton suited him, helped him breathe easier and calm his inner demons after what had happened at his old school. He'd thought the amount of letting go he enjoyed in singing with the Warblers was enough. Now, however... he was not so sure. Something deep and forgotten was waking up to life again.

***

  
Kurt was _flying_ down the stairs and into Blaine's waiting arms as soon as the song ended, and the _good – right – perfect_ feeling when their bodies connected in a tight embrace was like nothing else he'd ever experienced. It was like pieces clicking together, like a warm bath after a cold evening, like being exactly where he belonged. It was what perfect happiness must have felt like.

Well, almost perfect. Because there were too many layers between them where Kurt craved _skin_ – he _needed_ direct contact of bodies right now, and so did Blaine if the way his hands were traveling up and down Kurt's bare arms was any indication. But this was not a place to get closer, not when Puck was whooping at them from the stage already, the rest of the group pretending not to watch them, but stealing badly concealed curious glances. Tina smiled at them knowingly.

"Come on." Kurt grabbed his bag and discarded jacket and pulled Blaine by the hand towards the exit. Two of the nearest classrooms were locked, but the next door gave way and they stumbled inside, clinging together as soon as it closed behind them, their bags landing on the floor with a thump.

Blaine's hands were under Kurt's t-shirt immediately, broad and so warm, and he moaned a little at the absolute pleasure of touch. It wasn't even sexual – just the need to be close, skin on skin, finally satisfied after so many hours apart. He tugged at Blaine's uniform shirt with impatient fingers to pull it free of his pants and finally – _finally_ his fingers connected with that one perfect spot over Blaine's hip and –

_Yes_. That's what he needed, _exactly_ what he yearned for, especially when Blaine followed suit, pushing Kurt's shirt up to cover his mark with his palm.

Kurt could feel his body calm down, wave upon wave of _better_ descending upon him until he felt right again, focused and centered and complete. Only then did they kiss, slow and sweet, a little breathless. Kurt leaned his forehead against Blaine's when they parted, their hands still holding onto skin but less urgent already. It was enough, for now.

"Never again." Blaine groaned against Kurt's lips. "I'm not leaving your side for more than twenty-four hours ever again. It was _hell_."

Kurt chuckled softly and kissed him. "I know. I don't think we're gonna have much choice about that, though. What about when I go to New York for Nationals? And I'm sure there will be days when we can't meet before that, too – it's only to be expected when we're at different schools."

"Nope." Blaine pouted. "I refuse. How can people live when they have to be apart more often? I can't imagine functioning like this."

Kurt stroked his back with his free hand. "Well, Tina said it's more like a buzz at the back of her mind now, and it's been seven or eight times for them. So I guess it gets better?"

Blaine shuddered, burrowing closer into their embrace, and Kurt smiled and kissed his temple.

"Come on, let's not worry about it right now. We survived our first separation, that's something to celebrate. And we have all afternoon."

  
  
Kurt closed the door behind Blaine and leaned against it for a moment with a dopey grin. They'd spent a few perfect hours together, first out at the coffeshop and then here at home. It was surprisingly empty until Carole came back from her shift at the hospital ten minutes ago, making Blaine remember he should probably start on the drive home. And god, it was so good...

He unglued himself from the door and ran back upstairs, hoping to get to his window fast enough to catch one last glimpse of Blaine as he crossed the street to his car.

He was out of luck. The car door was just closing as he pushed the curtain aside, and in the darkness under the large tree where Blaine parked he was unable to catch even a glimpse of his profile. Oh well, he would just watch as Blaine drove away, maybe wave to him in case he looked in his rearview mirror.

Except... he didn't drive away. A full minute passed, and then another, and the car still stood there, dark and immobile. Kurt was just considering calling Blaine to ask if everything was alright when his knees nearly went out from under him as another one of those weird non-orgasms hit him like a freight train.

It took a long while until Kurt removed a fist from his mouth, stopped gasping for air and unfolded himself from the floor. By the time he looked through the window again, Blaine's car was gone.

He was just lazily considering jerking off before dinner because those phantom orgasms, while delightful, always left him with a raging hard-on that was hard to ignore, when something clicked in his head, connection sparking. Blaine's car outside... the state they'd been both in while saying goodbye, after an hour of the most delicious making out imaginable... oh.

_Oh._

Was it... could it be... No, surely not? But... it made sense. The more he thought about it, the more sense it made, actually, no matter how much it made him blush. If only he could test his theory somehow–

For the next hour, Kurt was plotting. Or, well, he plotted for ten minutes, and then spent the next fifty wondering if he could go through with it.

He kept his hands firmly away from his pants, even though it meant a certain level of discomfort through dinner. He waited until he received Blaine's text confirming that he'd gotten home safely, then waited some more for him to get settled. And then he shut the door to his room, put on music to keep his family from overhearing, took a deep breath and called.

"So is everything alright with your car?" He started as soon as Blaine greeted him with an enthusiastic _hi_.

"Um, what? Of course, why?" It was clearly nowhere near any question Blaine was expecting. Good. Kurt needed him a little confused. Even if he felt slightly Machiavellian about it.

"Oh, nothing, I was just looking out the window when you left and noticed it took you a really long time to start the car, you know." He kept his voice innocently curious.

"Wait, you watched me out there?" It sounded almost panicked.

"Well not _you_ , technically, I couldn't see you in the darkness. Just your car. I planned to wave goodbye as you were driving away, but then you weren't and I started to worry..."

Blaine latched onto the _worry_ just like Kurt knew he would.

"Oh, no, Kurt, it was nothing like that. Everything's fine with my car. Everything's fine, period."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I was just... thinking about you."

"You were sitting in your car in front of my house thinking about me?"

Blaine groaned. "Well... I needed a minute. I was trying to get you out of my head before the drive – but... your skin, your mouth, those little sounds that you made... God, you're really distracting, Kurt, you know? You don't want me driving distracted, do you?"

"No, of course not. So... how did you deal with your distractedness?" Kurt let the teasing bleed into his voice. He could practically see Blaine squirm when he spoke.

"Um. I."

"Blaine?"

"I... took care of it?"

" _Blaine Anderson_ , are you saying what I think you're saying?" Kurt put on his best scandalized tone.

Blaine sounded defensive now. "Well I was distracted and unable to sit straight, and this little thing you do with your tongue makes me shiver just thinking about it and... how was I supposed to drive like that, Kurt? But okay, now that you say it... I'm sorry, it was creepy, I wasn't really thinking–"

Kurt laughed brightly, interrupting before Blaine managed to spiral into full-fledged guilt. "No, not creepy, it's alright. I don't mind. I just wanted to get you to tell me."

"You..." Blaine paused, swallowed thickly. "You wanted me to admit that I jerked off in my car. Because you were too hot for me to wait until I was at home."

"Yup. Thank you."

Blaine let out an incredulous sound. "Kurt Hummel. I will _never_ fully understand this complicated mind of yours."

"Oh good, then you won't get bored with me. Okay, get back to your homework, and call me later to say goodnight."

  
  
He took his time. In the privacy of the shower, with blissfully hot water drumming against his skin and muffling any stray sounds that may escape him, Kurt let his hand slide down his body and rest exactly where he'd ached for it for hours now. And then he did something he'd never done before: he let himself think of Blaine while he stroked himself slowly – of the plush heaven of his lips, the way his fingers curled and dug in Kurt's skin when his breath picked up, of that helpless little whimper he let out when Kurt pressed him onto the bed this afternoon.

His hand picking up speed and breath hitching, Kurt let himself get even bolder, take one more step. In his head, there were no longer any clothes between his heated skin and Blaine's; they were naked and wanting, and it was Blaine's hand on his cock, making him bite his lip to hold in the moans, making him _come_ –

It was a heroic effort to stay quiet and his whole body was shaking, and he ended up on the floor because his legs were no longer able to support him as he tried to catch his breath coming down from what was surely the most intense orgasm of his life, and _wow_. Why hadn't he always done it like this?

He didn't give Blaine too much time – assuming he needed any time at all, which was yet to be determined – only as much as Kurt needed to get himself dried off, into his PJs and to bed, in the safe darkness of his room. If he was right, it wasn't a conversation he was quite ready for in the light of day.

Blaine was breathless and dazed when he picked up his phone, and if Kurt had any doubts left at all after their earlier conversation, they just evaporated in a small cloud of steam.

"Hey. Are you alright?"

"Yes. No. I don't... something weird just happened to me and–"

Kurt hummed happily. "I know."

"No, but really... wait. You _know_?"

"Mhm. For the record, I think this is exactly what I felt when you were in your car earlier tonight."

It took a moment to sink in, but when it did, Blaine's voice got squeaky. "Wait, you mean– You were–" He seemed to choke a little on the next words so Kurt decided to be gracious and help him out.

"I was just taking a shower. And... _thinking_ about you." Blaine stayed silent, his breathing fast and erratic in the speaker, so Kurt added, helpfully. "It was a very nice shower."

"Yes, I think I know how nice it was." Blaine said, his voice weak. Then he seemed to shake out of it a little. "Oh my god, Kurt, no, I need to ask. I'm sorry. Did I just... channel your orgasm?"

"Looks like it. It's interesting, isn't it?"

"Interesting is one word to use..." Blaine still seemed dazed, incredulous. "But... why aren't you more freaked out? You don't even seem surprised!"

Right. Here came the hard part. "Well... it wasn't the first time. I've just never connected the dots until tonight."

"It wasn't... Oh god," Blaine sounded like he was going to faint. "When did it start?"

"Let me think... around Christmas?"

Blaine whimpered. "You felt it... every time I've gotten off since Christmas?"

"I don't know. How often _do_ you get off?"

"I can't believe we're having this conversation." Blaine mumbled, then seemed to perk up. "Wait, how come I've never felt that before? You never...?"

"I've never let myself think about you... during. Before."

"Oh. _Oh_ , so you're saying it only transfers when we're thinking of each other?" Blaine was clearly starting to process it. Good.

"It seems so."

"Okay." There was a pause then, and Kurt could almost see the cogwheels in Blaine's head spinning frantically. "Should I... stop thinking of you then?"

Kurt felt his cheeks burn with a sudden blush. "Um... As long as you're reasonably sure I'm not somewhere in public or, I don't know, eating dinner with my family? I don't mind. At all. Do you?"

"God no. Feel free to think about me all you want. It's... insanely hot. Weird, right now, but I'll get over it. And who else gets to feel their boyfriend's orgasm? It may be the best side effect of these marks so far." Blaine was getting bubbly now, excited, and Kurt smiled into his pillow.

He hadn't had time to consider all the implications of this new development yet, but something told him it was going to be a _lot_ of fun.


	14. Chapter 14

Testing the new side effect of their marks was like being granted a wish Blaine never knew he had. It was awkward at first – they didn't talk about it when they met the day after that phone conversation, and there was a lot of furious blushing on both parts. Every time Blaine thought of touching himself after he came home that night, the realization that Kurt would  _know_ was both mortifying and really, really hot.

But around midnight, the second ever phantom orgasm – as Blaine called it – nearly brought him to his knees in the kitchen when he was grabbing a glass of milk before bed. Thankfully, neither of his parents were near enough to wonder why their son clutched the open fridge door for a good three minutes, moaning quietly and gasping for breath.

By the time he got back to his room, his reservations were mostly gone. Kurt was clearly fine with it, his recent act like an open invitation, and Blaine wasn't going to reject it.

Afterwards, Kurt called him, sleepy and clearly blissed out, to say goodnight, and it almost felt like falling asleep together after sex – except for the part where they were an hour away from each other.

For the next few days they took turns surprising each other with orgasms at random intervals, increasingly silly and giddy as they texted or talked afterwards, and it became easier every time until they were finally able to talk about it face to face without averting their eyes and blushing.

 

"God, I wish I could see you come. I can _feel_ you, which is more than most people will ever get, but god, actually seeing you... it's all I've been able to think about since, you know, _that_ night. Every time I got off this week, it's been to this picture in my head."

It was Tuesday and they were in Blaine's room, and apparently kissing Kurt for the last hour had removed Blaine's filter because he had _not_ planned to say any of this. Out loud.

Well, at least his face had been hidden in the enticing, vulnerable curve of Kurt's neck when his mouth decided to betray him, so he didn't have to actually see his boyfriend's reaction. That is, until a gentle hand under his chin made him look up.

Kurt... didn't look shocked. Tousled and flushed and wide-eyed – but not shocked at all.

"Me too," he breathed, the words settling low in Blaine's belly, a delicious tug of excitement.

"Really?" He felt breathless, lightheaded, and Kurt nodded. "So... maybe we could–"

Kurt kissed him, deep and hungry, but pulled off after mere seconds. "We will. But not today. I have to go in ten minutes, fifteen at the latest. I don't want it to be in a hurry. Next time?"

"Next time." Blaine echoed, grinning so hard his cheeks hurt. "Can we still kiss now, though?" 

 

Being together like this – all of their dates, phone calls, experiments, dozens of text messages – was the best; the sweetest part of every day. But it wasn't enough to block out the ache of being apart the rest of the time.

Blaine felt like he was exaggerating, or simply whining, blowing this whole distance thing out of proportion. Plenty of boys at Dalton only saw their girlfriends a few times a week, or even just on the weekends, and it was no big deal. There were other things to fill his time with – classes, friends, the Warblers, his piano lessons and boxing, to name few. His life didn't have to revolve around his boyfriend. Except now that Kurt was back at McKinley, all those other things felt like such a chore – a feeling he'd never had when they'd spent most of their days at Dalton if not together, then at least in each other's vicinity. Now, the distance between them was a constant presence in Blaine's mind. It was distracting.

The separation sickness only made things worse, of course.

In spite of their promises to try and not let it happen again, it did – and not even a week after the first time. Kurt called him on Wednesday, just as Blaine was leaving Warblers practice, to tell him he had a friend-related emergency and wouldn't be able to make it to their date afterall. Blaine barely held in the groan at the news. They were supposed to be alone at his house again, and he'd been giddily excited about it all day, and now the prospect of anything that he hoped might happen behind his closed bedroom door would have to wait until next week at least. Knowing what was in store for tonight only made the disappointment harder.

This time, he was prepared for the awful symptoms, but it didn't make them any more bearable. Kurt called him as soon as he came home around ten, already shivering, and they ended up talking on the phone until two in the morning (which helped a little), and then, at Kurt's bashful suggestion, _staying_ on the phone (thank god for the headsets) – no longer talking as they tested one more way to ease the separation and get some sleep before morning.

Listening to Kurt's soft little moans, and then the high, breathless " _Blaine._ " as he came was the hottest thing ever. And a real orgasm seconds after the channeled one was something his body was not prepared for, judging by the fact that afterwards, he fell asleep so fast it felt like a black out. Well, at least he slept, if only for a few hours.

Nothing could keep him in bed after dawn though, and once a text from Kurt confirmed that Blaine wasn't the only one awake, they decided to make the most of it and meet at a diner halfway between their houses before school. They only had a few minutes together, not even enough to come in and eat breakfast – so they just sat in Blaine's car in the crowded parking lot, sneaking quick, covert touches of each other's marks until they could breathe easier and think clearly. They parted with a short, sweet kiss to start their respective school days, much calmer.

That was two days ago. And now it was the weekend – which was _their_ time, the only chance to spend more than a couple of hours together – and Kurt was bailing on him again.

Yes, Blaine knew of Sam's family predicament already, and he was sympathetic, he really was. And Kurt was an amazing friend, offering to drive Sam around, helping him look for another job, and then babysitting his younger siblings with Quinn – so involved that his own plans fell second. And honestly, it was one of the things Blaine loved about Kurt, this passion he put into everything, be it shopping, performing, or helping his friends.

But the selfish part of him was in a full-fledged rebellion at the thought of a whole long Saturday alone at home, followed by another unbearable night where his body would literally ache for Kurt. It wasn't fair.

He didn't say it out loud, though. It was just that – him being selfish. He shouldn't make a mountain out of a molehill. So he just said it was okay, and found things to do all day while Kurt was too busy to even text, and then he went to bed early without much hope for any rest, and with a short goodnight text to Kurt instead of a call. Which, okay, might have been a little passive aggressive of him.

God, this distance thing was turning him into a terrible person.

To Blaine's surprise, the separation jitters seemed milder this time, and he actually managed to fall asleep after merely an hour of tossing and turning, obsessing whether or not he should call Kurt afterall. Sunday morning found him well-rested, but desperate to get to Lima, and deeply ashamed of his last night's behavior.

It couldn't go on like this. Something had to be done. And he knew exactly what it should be.

The day spent with Kurt and a few of his New Directions friends only deepened his conviction. They went to the mall, and Blaine had never had so much fun clothes-shopping before. He didn't really need new clothes, since he spent most of his time in Dalton uniforms, but... what if it changed? What if he could wear whatever he chose again, anytime he wanted, not just on weekends? And Kurt's expression when he saw Blaine in some of the clothes he picked for him to try on – skinny jeans and colorful shirts, and bowties... Blaine would be very interested to see this expression more often. Like every morning at school, perhaps. Every morning he met Kurt at his locker. At McKinley.

The thought alone was enough to make Blaine's skin tingle with excitement.

The idea had been there, nibbling at his brain, for a few weeks already. Now, it just felt like the right moment had come. It was time.  
Blaine spent the drive home rehearsing arguments and speeches in his head. About how the world outside wasn't like Dalton. How he'd needed the safety right after what happened at his old school, but now that he was fine again, it was time to face his demons. How it would surely be better if his parents could save money on the tuition and maybe put it into his college fund, instead.

It all felt very reasonable and mature, not a word about a boyfriend or missing the freedom of being himself and spreading his wings. It should work, right? What problem could his parents have with him transferring to McKinley?

The transfer would take some time, so it was unlikely he would be able to surprise Kurt tomorrow morning, but maybe in a few days? A week, at most? He could even go to Nationals with New Directions if they let him join so late in the year. It would be perfect.

The plan was flawless.

Except the conversation after dinner – while very civilized at first – went nowhere near the way Blaine hoped.

***

Kurt crept down the stairs as fast as he could without risking unnecessary noise, his stomach clenching and heart in full gallop. He made it halfway to the door before his father's voice caught up with him.

"Where do you think you're going?"

_Shit._ They were supposed to be asleep already.

Clearly they weren't, though. Both his dad and Carole were in the kitchen, sitting at the table over cups of... something, and looking expectantly at Kurt. Well, his dad was expectant; Carole just looked concerned. No wonder, he must have been quite a view, considering he'd already showered and done his evening routine before the emotions hit in earnest. His hair was soft and unstyled and his clothes... Kurt took a quick look down at himself. Green pajama pants and a soft red henley, the first thing that fell into his hands when he opened his closet in a hurry. Not the best combination.

His dad was still waiting for an answer, a frown slowly forming on his forehead, so Kurt struggled to sound composed as he spoke. He mostly failed.

"I just... I have to go see Blaine."

The frown only deepened. "You just saw Blaine, what, four hours ago? Listen, buddy, I know you two are close and all, but there are limits. Like sneaking out at night."

Kurt's hands were shaking by now, the foreign feelings pounding in his head, screaming at him to just _go already_ , and he almost sobbed aloud.

"Dad, please. He needs me."

His father's face softened immediately. "Why, what happened? Did he call you? Does he need to be picked up somewhere or–"

"No, no, I don't know, he didn't call, I just... something's wrong, dad, please. Just let me go see him."

"Okay, kid, I'm sorry, but you have to give me more than _something's wrong_. How do you know?"

His dad patted the stool next to him and Kurt gritted his teeth and came over to perch on the edge. He was desperate to go, but he knew there was no way they would let him without a good explanation. And the only one he could offer... was the truth. It had to come out sooner or later, and now there was no reason to hide it anyway.

Carole was already boiling the water, a packet of chamomile tea waiting on the counter – clearly it didn't escape her how jittery Kurt was. He took a deep breath and started, trying to keep it as short and simple as possible, Blaine's emotions still a mess in his head, making it hard to focus.

"There's this... thing happening lately to some people, where suddenly a kind of... mark appears on their skin. A name. Not just in Lima – everywhere, and no one knows what it means yet."

The look on his dad's face was a picture of disbelief and suspicion, and Kurt's heart sank. If he had to go all the way upstairs to get his laptop and show him the articles now–

"Wait, I heard about it." Carole put the cup in front of Kurt. "We got a memo at the hospital a few weeks ago, but I've never seen anyone actually have it."

Oh thank god. Kurt nodded, relieved, and simply pulled down the neck of his henley. Carole gasped. His dad frowned.

" _Blaine Anderson_ , huh?"

"Blaine has a matching one." Kurt said, and winced as a stronger wave of need hit him.

"Matching?"

"He has _my_ name. And I don't know how, but sometimes we can feel each other's emotions through it, that's how I know something's wrong. Can I go now? We'll talk about it more tomorrow, I'll tell you everything I know, just... dad."

His father was silent for a moment – every breath one too many for Kurt – before saying. "Okay, it's a lot to take in all at once. So what is it that you feel now? What do you think happened?"

"I don't know!" Kurt groaned, frustrated. "I can't _feel_ what is wrong, just his emotions when they're strong enough. And I've never felt him from this far away before, so... He was so _angry_ a while ago, and then more and more brokenhearted, and miserable, and I just feel that he really needs me now. Dad, please, can I go?"

His father shook his head slowly, his face apologetic. "Kurt... I don't think it's a good idea."

" _What_? But I told you... I explained, I need to, _dad_ –" His voice broke, throat clenching.

"Kurt, hear me out. Even if I let you go – then what? It's almost midnight. Would you just knock on the door and ask Blaine's parents to see him? And say what?"

"No, I–"

"No, he'd sneak you in, right? I understand, Kurt. You care and you want to be with him. But I'm not okay with you spending the night in your boyfriend's room."

"But we–"

"I can't yet wrap my head around that _thing_ you're speaking of, but from what you said, it doesn't sound like Blaine is hurt or that anything really bad is going on, right?"

"No, but he _needs me_!"

"And you can go back to your room and call him. You can even do that video-talking thing if you want. But you're not going to Blaine in the middle of the night, Kurt – not unless there's a real emergency."

Kurt fumed and ground his teeth but he knew it was no use protesting. If he put aside the emotional storm in his head – which was starting to calm down now, anyway – he had to reluctantly admit his father was probably kind of right. Knowing that Blaine was upset, that he needed Kurt, and not being able to be by his side in a heartbeat was torture, but he couldn't really blame his dad for saying no to his staying at Blaine's overnight. And they both had school in the morning. And okay, if he were honest, he was probably too jittery and unfocused to drive safely anyway.

It didn't stop him from storming out of the kitchen.

  

Blaine picked up on the first ring. He sounded a little stuffed up, like he might have been crying, and Kurt's heart ached.

"Hey, baby. Are you alright? What happened there?"

"Oh. So you felt." It wasn't a question, just a resigned statement.

"I did, even all the way over here. I was halfway out the door but my dad stopped me."

Blaine exhaled shakily. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm glad he did. It wouldn't be a good idea for you to come here right now."

His voiced sounded off in a way Kurt had never heard before, and a sudden shot of fear ran through him. This time, he wasn't sure if it was Blaine's, or his own.

"Why not? What's wrong?" He must have sounded at least a little panicked because Blaine hurried to calm him down.

"No, don't worry. I'm fine, just... I had a fight with my parents. They're still up and arguing downstairs, and if you turned up in the middle of this, it would be the worst thing possible."

"Oh." Suddenly, Kurt felt kind of stupid. In all of his guesses about what was wrong, he hadn't thought of this. "What happened?"

"I... told them about us."

" _Oh_. I thought you didn't want to tell them, not yet at least." They'd talked about it, and it stung a little, but Kurt understood. And now–

"I didn't. We were talking about something else, just a rational discussion, or so I thought, and then they said some things and it got emotional and I... I snapped. I got angry and I snapped, and of course I only made matters worse." Blaine took a shaky breath, his voice coming out choked when he spoke again. "God, Kurt, I never wanted to tell them like this. I knew they wouldn't be half as accepting as your family but at least I wanted to do it on my own terms, because you and me, it's something beautiful. Something that I'm proud of, that makes me happy. And the way it came out tonight... I'm so sorry, Kurt. I wish I had kept my mouth shut."

Kurt curled up on the bed the way he wanted to curl safely, protectively against Blaine.

"Hey, no, shh, it's okay. They would learn sooner or later, and whatever they think or say, it doesn't change anything. I love you, and what we have is special. Nothing can change that."

He could hear sheets rustling on the other end. "I know. I love you too, I just wish they could see how happy it makes me to have you in my life. Isn't it what they should care about? Not the gender of the person I love?" Blaine sighed wearily. "God, I wish you could be here. Just so you could hold me, and I could fall asleep with you."

Kurt's heart ached for it. "I know, honey. I want that, too. One day in the future, when we live together–" he broke off, suddenly embarrassed. It was way too early in their relationship to talk about these things – or even admit that he thought about it sometimes.

But then he heard Blaine smile over the phone. "I can't wait." A pause, and then, shyly. "Tell me how you see it."

Kurt took a deep breath, his cheek growing hot against the pillow, but then he closed his eyes and started, quietly.

"Well I don't know about you, but I've been thinking New York, maybe?–"


	15. Chapter 15

Not a day passed this week without Blaine regretting he'd told his parents that he had a boyfriend. It wasn't that they were giving him a hard time over it – not really, considering they didn't touch the subject. They were just so  _attentive_ all of the sudden, it made everything much more complicated.

Blaine was used to being left to fend for himself. Having his own credit card to pay for gas and other basic needs, barely any parental control over his whereabouts – that was his normalcy and had been for a few years now. So the way his parents were suddenly interested in everything about his life, from his grades and academic achievements to his gas expenses and what he was doing in his free time was honestly disconcerting. Not to mention annoying, especially when it interfered with his _Kurt time_. He should study more, drive around less and definitely spend more time with his family, he was told.

They were trying, Blaine could tell – his mom was home most afternoons this week, and even his father came in from work in time for dinner. They tried to initiate actual family time, too – watching TV together one evening, going to a restaurant they all liked two days later. But any attempts at conversation were falling short – be it from lack of practice over the last few years, or the fact that his parents kept carefully avoiding anything even _remotely_ related to Blaine's sexuality.

It didn't really leave them with many topics because, well, it was just one of the things that made him _him_ , an inseparable part of his everyday life and experiences, not something that could be forgotten, a bad habit that could be glanced over. How could he talk about himself out of this context? He had a boyfriend and a past that was at least in part shaped by the fact that he was gay. He had issues resulting from said past that still influenced his daily life in one way or another, and his dreams and plans all included Kurt. It was really quite impossible to avoid the topic altogether. But Blaine's father in particular seemed to be dead set on avoiding it, and the result was a lot of stumbling over awkward pauses before they settled on superficial, neutral subjects again.

Still, Blaine appreciated the effort, he really did. He just didn't know what exactly they were trying to achieve. Because so far, it seemed to bring all of them more frustration than anything else. And not just the domestic kind.

Between his mom being home more often and Kurt's family always looking in on them or engaging them in whatever they were doing every time they were there, Blaine had been unable to do anything more than steal a chaste kiss from his boyfriend all week. And with last week's developments and their promise of _next time_... well, their hormones were going sort of crazy.

So when Saturday morning came and Kurt texted that he had a surprise for him that afternoon, Blaine's mind immediately shot to empty houses and time alone, and he grinned into his pillow. It took a lot of effort to talk his way out of going shopping with his mom – which was definitely not his idea of fun even if the alternative wasn't Kurt – but he managed, and mere hours later he was sitting opposite Kurt at the Breadstix table, trying to look calm and composed while internally he shook with happy anticipation. 

 

"Give me your hand."

Kurt was so excited he was practically bouncing with some news he couldn't seem to contain for long, and for a second, absurdly, Blaine thought _He's going to tell me he's coming back to Dalton_.

He wasn't.

"Blaine Warbler," the nickname still made Blaine chuckle every time it was used. "Will you go to junior prom with me?"

The chuckle died on his lips. _Oh._

" _Prom_?" That was the big surprise?

"It will be the social event of the season." Kurt grinned and bounced in his seat, but then his face fell. "You don't want to go to prom with me?"

"No, no no, of course I want to go with you." Blaine stuttered, unwelcome images already crowding his mind, making him dizzy. "It's just." He took a steadying breath. "Prom."

"What about prom, Blaine?" Kurt arched an eyebrow. He still looked slightly hurt but clearly could sense Blaine's discomfort now. His hand, withdrawn a moment ago, returned to hold Blaine's over the table.

He didn't really want to talk about it. It was in the past. But this was Kurt, and he deserved to know, so Blaine swallowed to try and dislodge the lump stuck in his throat.

"At my old school, there was a Sadie Hawkins dance," he started, "and... I had _just_ come out. So I asked a friend of mine, the only other gay guy in the school. While we were waiting for his dad to pick us up, these three guys... um." It was getting harder to speak, memories swirling in his head, painfully sharp and vivid, suffocating. "Beat the living crap out of us." That was the closest to the truth he could get right now, and he hoped Kurt wouldn't ask for details. Surprised like this, thrown back into the shadows of that dreadful night without a warning, he wouldn't be able to keep calm, and he didn't have his meds with him.

Kurt didn't ask. He looked stunned, his eyes wide and tearful.

"I... I'm so sorry. I didn't know."

"I'm out, and I'm proud, this is just... a sore spot." Blaine rushed to reassure him, and Kurt squeezed his suddenly sweaty hand.

"No, I understand. Let's forget about prom. We'll go to a movie instead."

The rush of relief, of pressure lifting, made him lightheaded.

"I'm _crazy_ about you." 

 

That should have been the end. But as Blaine drove home that night, the thought wouldn't leave him.

He was still running. Over a year had passed, and he was still running away from his past. He'd let the bullies chase him away from his old school, from himself, to the golden cage that was Dalton. He'd let them steal his sense of safety, his confidence, let them haunt him even now, after all this time. He was still on the run.

Maybe it was time to stop and face his fears. It would be hard and scary, and he wasn't sure if he'd be able to do it just for himself, by himself.

But he wasn't by himself anymore. 

 

His parents were in the living room when he came home, and Blaine took it as a sign that he should just get on with it right away. He entered the room and sat down in the armchair opposite them, slightly trembling hands folded in his lap. His mom lowered her book.

"Hello, honey. How was your day?"

"It was good. We went to lunch and had coffee with some friends, and then watched a movie."

"It sounds nice." His mom's smile was only slightly off. It was clearly hard not think who exactly _we_ entailed when Blaine had referred to his outing as a _date_ this morning. Loudly and repeatedly.

"It was. Actually, I wanted to let you know that I have plans for next weekend."

"Oh?" Even his father looked up over his business magazine now. Blaine hardly ever told them of his plans, let alone a week in advance.

"Yeah, I'm going to junior prom at McKinley. With Kurt." He was proud of how smoothly it came out, no nervous stutter at all.

His mom's book hit the carpeted floor with a muted _thump_. But it was his father who spoke.

"You're doing no such thing. Did you forget what happened the last time you had a brilliant idea to go to a dance with another guy? One would think it had taught you something."

Blaine took a steadying breath and looked into the cool grey eyes, determined not to flinch, not to let them provoke him this time.

"No, dad. It didn't teach me anything because I fled. I didn't give myself a chance to learn. And yes, I know I needed it back then, but the truth is, it's something that I regret to this day." Something like surprise ran over his father's usually stoic features. It was the first time Blaine had said it to anyone but Kurt. He glanced at his mom. Her eyes were wide and glassy. "I've been _hiding_ for the last year, and I've had enough. I understand that you don't want me to change schools now, fine. But I want to do _this_ at least. I'm not the same kid I was back then. I'm stronger, I know how to defend myself if needed. I'll be with my boyfriend and our friends, and I'll be smart, no going out alone. But I need to do this, to face the bullies at his school at least, together, since I wasn't able to face them at mine."

Frankly, he expected a decisive _no_. He had no plan for that scenario, all of his arguments spent in the first round. But his mom asked instead, her voice tight.

"There are bullies?"

"Of course there are bullies, mom, it's a high school in Ohio. The whole world is full of bullies and I can't change it. This is my life, mine and Kurt's. There will always be bullies and homophobes and all kinds of assholes, and I can only learn to face them because I sure as hell can't avoid them forever, Dalton or not."

"Language." His father quipped, then took his time closing his magazine and putting it away, carefully straightening the whole stack before he continued. "Fine. If you think you're ready to make such a decision, even knowing what the consequences may be, then I won't stop you."

Blaine looked at him, incredulous. "Really?"

"Really. I still think it's a bad idea. But you're old enough to learn from your own mistakes." He got up and walked over to the liquor cabinet to pour himself some whiskey. The conversation was clearly over, and Blaine still couldn't believe the outcome.

"I... you... thank you, dad." 

 

He called Kurt as soon as he got back to his room.

"I'll go."

"What? Where?" Kurt sounded confused and a bit distracted, sounds of his family in the background, and Blaine grinned.

"I'll go to prom with you."

Even if he hadn't heard the happy squeal, he would have felt Kurt's reaction. It was a sweeping wave of surprised, bubbly joy that left him warm all over and made it easy to push any lingering doubts and apprehension to the back burner of his mind.

***

"And now, the 2011 McKinley High prom queen, with an overwhelming number of write-in votes, is... _Kurt Hummel_."

Figgins' thoughtlessly surprised frown. The lights – too bright, too harsh – finding Kurt in the crowd. Sudden silence around him, broken by a whoop, a laugh, solitary applause. Faces everywhere, a sea of faces all turning towards him, carefully blank or sneering or openly hostile. Everything seemed hyperreal, every detail sharp like a movie with resolution too high for the human eye to watch.

Kurt ran.

He'd been _so stupid_. He thought that his coming back, and everything that led to it, had changed something, that some kind of progress had been made with Karofsky's apologies and the Bully Whips and the chapter of PFLAG they were starting now. But _nothing_ had changed. The hate was still there, strong as ever – maybe _stronger_ , since it didn't have an easy way out now. They couldn't push him against lockers anymore, or yell slurs in his face, so they showed him what they thought in a different way. A silent way. Whispers instead of shouts.

He barely heard the footsteps behind him, Blaine's voice calling his name, begging him to stop, over the pounding in his head. But he did stop. There was nowhere to run anyway. Even if he wanted to, the was no escape from this.

Blaine's face was pale and worried when Kurt whipped around to look at him. He didn't try to come closer or touch Kurt or – god forbid – hug and comfort him, and Kurt was _so_ grateful because he felt like he'd suffocate if he didn't have space around him right now. But this was Blaine. He knew. He understood.

This was Blaine, so Kurt just let go, let the mess of emotions out, let himself rage and rant and cry the angry tears, open like he never was with anyone, except maybe his dad. He had only enough strength to either hold up his walls and pretend to be fine, or deal with his feelings right now, but not both, and while with anyone else he'd have chosen the former, this was Blaine. So with a blind trust that he'd be accepted even at his most raw and vulnerable, Kurt let the anger and the fear and the heartbreak run through him, unhidden. A sweeping wave that came and hurt and shook him, and then passed, and Blaine was still there, patiently waiting with no expectations, no ready-made advice to force upon him. Just a soft "So what do you want to do?" and those eyes, full of awe and love when Kurt decided. And then a hand, strong and steady in his, all the support he needed.

The hand that was there again ten minutes later when the music started and Karofsky fled, leaving Kurt humiliated – _again, would this never end?_ – and alone in the empty circle of the dance floor, with every eye and every light on him, the plastic crown on his head heavy like lead. Blaine's hand was a lifeline, a promise, and right there, even though Kurt could feel the fear radiating from him even through his own emotions.

He'd never loved Blaine more than in this moment.

Stepping into his arms, even just as close as the situation allowed for the dance, was like home, the safest place there was for Kurt. Their skin touching was instant comfort on what felt like a cellular level; he could feel his mind and body calm down within seconds.

They were together, this was what counted. They were there for each other, and with each other, always, and no one could touch them, or what they had. Ever.

***

"Mr. Hummel?"

Blaine had left Kurt alone just for a moment, _I'll be right back_ whispered into his ear, with no response.

He found Kurt's dad in the kitchen, his face grim, and this was probably too much, what he was going to ask for, too forward – but he would ask anyway. There was no room to be nervous right now; he needed to do this, for Kurt.

"Blaine. How is he?"

"He's... overwhelmed. It really got to him, what they did, those fuc– _um_. Sorry. It just... I can't stand feeling him so brokenhearted because of a bunch of... _ugh_." Apparently he still couldn't talk about it without swearing, so he shut up.

Kurt's dad nodded. His eyes looked bloodshot and tired. "How about you?"

"Me?" It was such a strange question.

"Kurt told me you have a... history, with school dances."

_Oh_. Blaine honestly had to stop and think. There had been no time, no room in him yet to measure his own emotions. "I... I've been better." He admitted finally. "But I'll be fine."

Another nod. "Do you have to go now?"

Blaine took a deep breath. "Actually, that's what I... I know it's a lot to ask, but... would you let me stay with Kurt tonight? Just to be there for him. I think – I _know_ – he really needs it right now. Needs _me_." He felt his cheeks warm up with blush. It wasn't a thing he had ever thought he'd say to his boyfriend's father.

Mr. Hummel looked at him without saying a word for a moment, eyes piercing, inquisitive. "So... you _can_ feel him, then, the way he says this connection or whatever works? You two really have this crazy name thing?"

Blaine was already untucking his shirt, nodding. He couldn't help but brush the name on his skin as the cool air hit it.

"They say it means some kind of destiny, I read, when two people have each other's." Kurt's father said. He was looking at the mark with an unreadable expression and Blaine felt like squirming under his gaze. "Soulmates, some even call it."

"I know." Blaine said softly. He secretly loved that word.

"What do you think?"

"I think they're right."

Mr. Hummel got up and busied himself with pouring a glass of water, his face turned away from Blaine. He cleared his throat before speaking. "Do you need me to call your parents to tell them you're staying?"

"Um, no, thank you. I will deal with them." He'd have to lie, of course, but that was the least of his worries right now _._

Kurt's father looked like he knew, but he just nodded.

"Okay. Go to Kurt, kid." Blaine was already on the move but he stopped and turned when he heard his name again. "Thank you for taking care of him."

"Of course, Mr. Hummel."

"And for god's sake, call me Burt." 

 

Kurt was curled on the bed, still in his prom outfit, the way Blaine left him five minutes ago. He looked small and vulnerable now, no longer the fierce boy who'd gone up on that stage to take the prom queen crown and title like he was born for it. Now he just looked exhausted and broken. Blaine kneeled by the bed and started unlacing Kurt's boots.

"Come on baby. Let's get you into PJs and to bed."

Kurt stirred and looked up at him, his eyes wide and glassy. "Do you have to go soon?"

"No." He pulled off one boot, then the other, and put them neatly away by the end of the bed. "I'm not going anywhere. I talked to your dad and... I can stay the night. Here with you."

Kurt hadn't cried yet – not since that moment outside the gym. Not when he'd asked to go home instead of to the party with the rest of New Directions. Not in the car or while recounting the events to his dad, not even when they were finally alone in his room. Everything had been growing and swelling inside him until he seemed ready to burst with too much emotions. But he hadn't cried.

Until now.

It was as if Blaine's promise to stay burst the dam, as if it was the permission to let go. The next thing Blaine knew, he had an armful of sobbing boyfriend pressed tightly against his chest, wave upon wave of misery rushing through his own brain until he felt his eyes sting and overflow.

It was so fucking unfair, what they had done, those cowardly, faceless haters. Just a cruel, mean joke that was probably funny for them – and so much pain. This was what the world had in store for them; this was what they were up against. Hundreds – _thousands_ of people like those. It felt so hopeless sometimes.

"We'll be okay. They can't break us."

Kurt's voice was scratchy but he wasn't crying anymore, just curled against his chest, his hand sliding under Blaine's shirt to press protectively against the name there. Blaine wanted to mimic the move, but Kurt was still fully dressed, his shirt buttoned up, the bowtie tight against the collar, and it was too much, too hard to fight all those layers right now. He whined faintly and Kurt let go of him and pushed up to stand. His eyes still bright from tears, but calm now, certain, he slid off his jacket and untied the bowtie.

"Let's go to bed, shall we?"

  

They both showered quickly, separately. Blaine took a moment to call his parents with an easy lie about the post-prom party they were supposed to be at; Kurt went to say goodnight to his dad. And then they were in bed together, the first time since that night after Rachel's party – the first time as boyfriends, and it felt perfect, exactly what they both needed, as they held each other in the dark.

This was also the most intimate they'd ever been – alone, under the covers together, with the door closed and only the thin cotton of their t-shirts and pajama pants between them. Or – one pair of pants, because Blaine was in his boxer briefs, his bare legs tangled with Kurt's, everything so close and warm, so intense. He really couldn't be blamed for his body reacting. And it didn't matter, anyway. They would just cuddle through the night like this – Kurt's head on his shoulder, his hand over the mark on Blaine's hipbone, his breath tickling Blaine's neck.

Except it wasn't just his breath anymore – Kurt's lips were there, soft and gentle, slowly kissing their way up to his jaw. Kurt's hand slid up under the t-shirt to rest over Blaine's heart, his pinky brushing over a nipple, and Blaine turned his head to capture Kurt's mouth.

They kissed with no hurry, simply enjoying the closeness, the warmth of hands under t-shirts, the luxury of having the whole night together. But Kurt was so tempting – soft skin over firm muscles, his scent all fresh and minty, his quickening breath – and so Blaine stumbled, just a little, falling deeper into a kiss, hard and hungry, until he caught himself and retreated, apologizing. It wasn't the time for this.

Or maybe it was.

The apology was kissed off his lips, any trace of it sucked thoroughly clean as Kurt's tongue dove into his mouth, hot and insistent, and Blaine tangled his fingers into Kurt's silky hair and lost himself in it. He would never get tired of kissing like this, he could do this all through the night, or fall asleep with Kurt's lips on his own, and wake up only to start again.

Kurt's fingers were frantic under Blaine's shirt, dancing over skin and clenching on air, and then Kurt was moving, pressing closer and rolling on top of him, straddling his thighs and sucking on the side of Blaine's neck, and–

Kurt was hard. Hard and pressing right against him, and Blaine almost choked on the moan he was doing his very best to swallow.

"Kurt." It took every last shred of his willpower to say what he was about to say, but he had to, he couldn't just... take advantage of the situation. "Kurt, we can't, come on, not like that, not tonight when you're so upset. I don't want this to happen just to drown out the prom."

"It's not." Kurt raised his head and even in the darkness his eyes were bright and certain, his whisper unwavering. He kept his hips still, but there. "It's not because of that. It's because I want you, and I love you, and the only thing it has to do with what happened earlier is that you take my breath away. You were so brave in there, so stunning, my own real life prince."

"Except you're no damsel in distress, you don't need saving."

"No, but I need to be loved, and you do. You love me so perfectly, Blaine, you make me _feel_ so loved. Honestly, all those people out there, I think half of them are simply jealous because they don't have what we do, and they want to, because they can see how special it is, what we have. And I _love_ _you_ , and you're so gorgeous, and so hot and–" Kurt's hips twitched, a sharp press down that made Blaine's eyes roll back in his head. "I want you. Want you so much, want to make you come, want to see you–" Kurt's breath was stuttering now, his hips rolling slowly as he spoke, and Blaine managed to muffle a groan with his hand at the very last second.

"But your dad–"

"We'll be quiet, so quiet, please." Kurt was gasping and kissing his neck. "I'll stop if you want me to, but–"

"No, don't. Don't stop, just... kiss me." He honestly didn't think he'd be able to keep quiet otherwise.

What followed was a slow, delicious build-up as they rocked against each other and shivered and kissed desperately, too sloppy and wet and _perfect_. It was hot under the covers and everything was slowed down and careful because the bed creaked sometimes and because they wanted this to last, to revel in every sensation that seemed multiplied, sublimated by the dark and the silence.

It was too dark to see every detail of Kurt's face when he finally came, tensing and arching up over Blaine, his mouth open in a silent cry, but what Blaine _could_ see was absolutely breathtaking, pushing him over the edge he'd been clinging to so fast he almost forgot to muffle his moan in Kurt's shoulder, right against his mark. And coming together felt... different, not like the phantom orgasms at all. More like an echo of sensations between their bodies and minds, spreading and bouncing back and forth, overwhelming with the completeness of it.

Blaine had read somewhere once that no matter how close two people having sex were, the moment of orgasm was always a solitary experience.

Well, for them it wasn't.

Afterwards, they were cuddly and giggly, and increasingly uncomfortable in the mess between their overheated bodies. Kurt slid off him with a happy sigh, only to groan at the stickiness.

"We need to change, there's no way I'm sleeping in this mess." He paused, eyebrow arching. "Oh. You don't have spare underwear, do you?"

"Nope. Somehow I hadn't predicted my amazing boyfriend might have this kind of plans tonight. He's a perfect gentleman after all, not one to give into the cliché of having sex after prom."

Kurt grinned. "Oh? Sounds classy, that boyfriend of yours. I should meet him some day." He bit his lip then, thoughtful. "But back to the underwear problem... would it be weird if I let you borrow mine?"

Blaine hadn't even thought of it, but... _guh_. He cleared his throat. "Maybe a _little_ weird? But I could live with that."

 


	16. Chapter 16

Nationals, the whole New York adventure, had been Kurt's dream for months – getting out of Ohio, even just for a few days, to a place so much bigger, more open, _free_. He wanted it all so badly, getting to see and taste how it could be, what his future could hold, experiencing it all, dreaming big. He couldn't sleep the night before, vibrating with excitement and repacking his suitcase for the third time to make sure he was prepared for every possible fashion opportunity (including, though he wouldn't admit it to anyone, being spotted by a talent hunter and swept right from the competition stage to a recording studio or a Broadway audition).

And those few days were everything he'd hoped for – a glimpse of the New York life with its rush, its lights, its possibilities, that left Kurt utterly enchanted. Window-shopping at the designer boutiques – never mind that it would be years before he could afford to actually buy anything at any of them – gave him happy chills. Broadway left him breathless. Merely being there sent his heart into an excited gallop, and when he sneaked into the Gershwin theatre with Rachel, standing on that stage felt so _right_. Like his heart recognized it, like this was where he belonged.

And he did belong here, not just on Broadway, but in the city. For the first time in years, he didn't stand out. There were people in the streets whose outfits made his own feel muted. There were men and women so clearly playing with the gender image that his own looks hardly seemed like a flaw here – not that Kurt considered them to be, but he'd heard enough _girl_ comments over the years to have enough. And the freedom... His eyes stung when he first saw two men kissing hello right at the airport, before they went their way, hand in hand. By the end of the day it no longer took him by surprise every time he saw a same-sex couple, but it kept making him smile – and ache. God, if only Blaine could be here with him...

But Blaine couldn't be there.

In fact, this trip was in many ways a test for them, a challenge. It was the first time they were so far away from each other; first time since becoming boyfriends that they didn't get to meet for more than 48 hours. They had no idea how it would feel – how much the distance affected their connection, how bad the separation sickness would get. Even Tina couldn't help them – she and Mike had never experienced such distance yet.

It turned out to be both more and less bearable than Kurt had expected.

The separation symptoms were milder than ever before, and faded even more the next day. Kurt knew it had to be harder for Blaine, who was stuck in his everyday life back in Ohio instead of being wonderfully distracted by everything around him like Kurt was, but his texts and his voice seemed to confirm that it wasn't that bad. And late on the second night, when all of the girls were already asleep or well on their way, Kurt got the confirmation that their... sexual connection might be slightly weakened by the distance, but was still there.

He couldn't say the same about the emotional one.

In the weeks since they'd discovered that the marks made them channel their most intense emotions, they'd both learned to control it a little, to consciously gauge the emotional state of the other even in the less explosive moments. It was imprecise, only giving them the vague mood rather than specific feelings, but it was comforting nonetheless, like reaching out in the dark and finding the reassurance of the other's presence there.

Except now it didn't work. At all. Kurt kept trying to focus and feel Blaine's mind somewhere out there, his fingers reaching to the mark under his collarbone on instinct, but nothing happened. It was a weird feeling, being aware of all the distance between them diluting their bond. It made him feel untethered and vaguely anxious. Once, he got a faint glimmer of something like distress, but it was so weak and fleeting that he decided he must have imagined it, especially when Blaine answered his concerned text with a sleepy goodnight one.

And want it or not, being in New York made Kurt think about things he wasn't quite ready for. Like college and their inevitable separation.  
It sounded completely crazy at their age, especially when they'd only been together for a little over two months so far, but they wanted a future together. And they both wanted to study in New York, so that was not a problem.

No, the problem was the damn age difference.

Of course, Kurt still had over a year until graduation, and anything could happen in that time. He could end up studying somewhere else, closer to home. Their marks could disappear as suddenly as they turned up, they could even break up for some unconceivable reason. But if everything went well...

...they would still end up apart. For the whole school year. States away, unable to meet for weeks, even _months_ on end. With their connection limited by distance, and no way to _touch_.

That last thought made him freeze in the middle of packing the last of his toiletries. Not being able to touch Blaine for _months_? The prospect felt like torture. Not because of the intimate, sexual aspect, though obviously, he would miss that too. But more than that, Kurt couldn't imagine not having access to the ultimate comfort of skin-on-skin contact with Blaine. He didn't know if it was a mark thing or just _their_ thing, but they both craved – _needed_ – each other's touch like they needed air. Even just a bit of skin touching, like hands brushing under the table, did the trick – soothing, comforting, reassuring. It felt like his body took Blaine's presence as a promise that it was safe, that everything was alright, no matter how tilted the world might feel at any particular moment. It took the comfort of holding someone's hand, or a hug, to a whole new level. Losing this would be like... well, like going back to the time before he'd met Blaine, made even worse by the fact he now knew the difference.

"Kurt? What's wrong?" Tina took the forgotten toiletry bag out of his hand and put it in his suitcase, and Kurt jerked back to reality.

"Oh! No, nothing, I just thought about... college and the, you know–" He gestured to her wrist. There were too many people around to spell it out.

Tina frowned, but then her eyebrows shot up. "Wait, you said Blaine was on board with studying in New York?"

"He is, but he'll have to graduate first, won't he?" She still looked confused, so Kurt rolled his eyes. "Blaine is a sophomore, Tina."

"He is? I was sure he’s your age, he said something once... oh well, I must have misunderstood. Anyway, hey, welcome to our world. Mike is already looking into local programs and community classes to fill up the year before we can both apply to our dream schools."

Kurt stopped in the process of zipping up his suitcase. "Really? And his parents are okay with it?"

Tina shrugged. "Of course. We're soulmates, we're not supposed to be apart, especially for such a long time. Our parents decided it makes more sense than me changing schools and moving away with him for my senior year."

"Wow."

"Why, haven't you thought about it? What do you two plan to do?"

Kurt shook his head, unsure what to say. They've never even talked about the year apart yet. College still felt ages away. Or had, until now.  
Loud knocking on the door saved him from answering, Mr. Schue's voice coming through. "I want to see everyone down in the lobby in five minutes. No stalling guys, we have a plane to catch."

Kurt checked his carry-on bag one last time and rolled his suitcase out of the room, taking a chance to escape his friends for a short moment and collect himself. He and Blaine needed to have a serious talk. Just... maybe not yet. It could wait until summer, when they'd have more time together and everything would be easier, more relaxed without school. They could talk then.

If nothing more, it gave Kurt time to think.

***

Blaine's mom didn't like Kurt. Not that he'd honestly expected anything else, but a boy can dream, right?

He'd decided it was time for his parents to meet Kurt a week before the school year ended – they had the whole summer to look forward to and other than Blaine's short stint at Six Flags and Kurt's part-time job at his father's garage, those two months looked like paradise, boyfriend-time-wise. It seemed reasonable to start getting his parents used to the sight of the two of them in the same location, especially considering that the Anderson house had a large backyard with a swimming pool and a hammock. It felt criminal not to use those on the inevitably hot summer days, no matter how much Kurt whined about _UV_ and _chlorine_ and _mosquitoes_. Blaine knew he would be able to sway him when the time came. He could be _very_ persuasive when needed.

Except now he wasn't sure Kurt would even want to come over anymore if things continued to be the way they were.

They were never home alone. His father hadn't actually met Kurt yet, but his mom... Blaine honestly couldn't remember the last time she had spent so much time at home, especially in the summer when her country club and her friends usually kept her busy. But this year, whenever he announced he'd be inviting Kurt over, his mom just miraculously didn't have anything planned and spent her time puttering loudly around the house or doing things in the backyard. And it wouldn't even be that bad – annoying, yes, but oh well, all parents were like that when their teenage kids wanted time alone, right? But it was not just a question of privacy, or lack of it.

His mom never missed the opportunity to throw Kurt disapproving glances; she wasn't even trying to be subtle about it. And whenever she deigned to speak to Kurt – which wasn't often – her voice was so cold Blaine was pretty sure it made the temperature in the room drop a few degrees. Really, he barely recognized the lovely, gracious hostess she was known to be.

And Blaine could see how hard it was on Kurt. It wasn't killing him the way it would Blaine if he was the one clearly disapproved of – no, Kurt wasn't a people-pleaser, he didn't need acceptance to live. He'd had plenty of ostracism in his life, but it had usually been loud and direct, making it something he could deal with, one way or another: defend himself, snark back, pointedly ignore the hater. But this time, he didn't even get that luxury. Nothing was out in the open and Blaine could see that Kurt was trying so very hard to be polite and not let it affect him, trying for _Blaine's_ sake, but it was frustrating him to no end.

It was only a matter of time before the situation would explode, Blaine knew. And it terrified him. Both Kurt and his mom had a temper, so it wouldn't be pretty.

He tried to talk to his mom, but she acted like there was nothing to talk about, like he exaggerated. And as much as he wanted to believe that the tension would dissolve eventually, it only seemed to grow, leeching away half the pleasure of being with Kurt. So two weeks into the summer vacation, Blaine gave up. They were always welcome at Kurt's house, and even though they had no privacy at all there either, it was better than here.

Kurt frowned when he told him, and it took Blaine all of two seconds to read his reaction.

"No, _no_ , Kurt, it's not your fault, they are just... really stupidly stubborn sometimes, and I wish I could do something about it, but it just doesn't work, and I don't want you to have to endure it anymore."

Kurt nodded and kissed him. "I don't care where we are, as long as it's with you."

And that should have been the end of it – it would have been, if they hadn't run into Blaine's mom when they went to the kitchen to get some ice cream. Kurt was up front, greeted with another wordless glare, and Blaine could feel Kurt's restraint _snap_. It happened too fast, he didn't have time to stop Kurt before the words were out.

"Why do you hate me so much? All I've ever done is love your son, is that so wrong?"

_Uh-oh._ Blaine closed his eyes. Here it came.

When he opened them, his mom was standing in front of Kurt, scary despite her tiny form, her eyes flashing with anger.

"Oh yes, of course, you love him _so_ much that you don't even care about his safety or comfort, do you?"

"Wha-" Kurt started, stunned, but she wouldn't let him speak.

"You don't care that he very nearly _died_ last year at the hands of bullies – no, of course not, it doesn't matter as long as you have your prom, and your boyfriend at your school where you want him. And the way you look, the way you _dress_ – it only pulls attention, doesn't it? And maybe you're fine with it, the way it puts you in danger, but when you're with Blaine, you're putting _him_ in danger, too. On his own, he can easily pass as _normal_ , but with you? Not a chance. So forgive me for not thinking that you are good for my son, Kurt. Because you're not. You will only get him hurt."

Blaine had never heard his mom use this tone, so cold and sneering, and god, she had it all wrong. But before he could say anything, Kurt whirled around, his face pale and eyes lowered, and with a whispered _I'm sorry_ shot right past him and back up the stairs to Blaine's room.  
Blaine's first instinct was to go after him, but he paused.

"Mom? First of all, I _am_ normal, we both are, and I have no intention of _passing_ and pretending I'm not who I am. And second, he doesn't know anything about it. Not that I want to transfer, nor how bad Sadie Hawkins was. I only told him I'd been attacked, and he gave up the idea of prom immediately. It was all me, mom, my own choices."

Her face fell for a moment, doubt creeping in, but then she frowned again. "So you don't even trust him enough to tell him?"

Blaine just shook his head, incredulous, and ran up to his bedroom.

He found Kurt pacing the room, his hands shaking and lower lip white where his teeth dug in. His eyes were wet when he faced Blaine, haunted.

"You nearly _died_? It was _that_ bad? Why didn't you tell me?"

Blaine came up to him and took his hands.

"I'm sorry. I just... I didn't want you to pity me or... I don't know, see me differently, I guess?" He admitted honestly. "From the moment we met, you've always looked up to me, you know? And I knew that if you saw the whole picture, you'd realize there's nothing to admire, really. And... the past is past, why bother digging it up anyway?"

"Because I want to know everything about you, and that includes your past. Because apparently that past still affects you and I've had _no idea_ , Blaine, do you know how that feels? And no matter what happened, I'm not going to admire or love you less because of it. You're _you_ , and I love you." Kurt's face softened. " _Please_ tell me."

Blaine sighed and closed the door, then led Kurt to the armchair by the bed. "Are you sure? It's not gonna be pretty, and with the connection between us–"

"I'm sure."

Blaine breathed out and climbed onto the bed to sit cross-legged, facing Kurt. "Okay then. You should know though... I have some anxiety issues, and talking about this may stir them up." Kurt looked like he'd never really seen him before, and Blaine forced himself to push through. "I have meds that I can take if it gets bad, but before they start to work... that's a scary feeling, Kurt, so you should maybe try and shield yourself from the empathy if possible."

Kurt just nodded, looking spooked, and Blaine put his chin on his fists and started.

"I told you that we were attacked after the Sadie Hawkins dance, me and Andy. The attackers... there were three of them, and they were drunk. At first it was just words, the usual, run-off-the-mill homophobic stuff, but soon it wasn't enough for them, so they started... pushing us, at first. Then one of them decided we needed to be _taught_ – I still don't know what we were supposed to learn – but then they were... punching and kicking, more and more vicious, and... I don't really remember every blow and every minute of it, just that it felt like eternity, and it hurt _everywhere_ , and the sounds, _god_ , the sound of human flesh colliding with a boot, Kurt–"

His voice was unsteady now, but he was holding on. Kurt's face looked _tortured_ , and they hadn't even gotten to the worst yet.

"The last look of Andy that I got, he was bloody and unmoving, and I really thought he might be dead because he no longer made any sounds, he was just lying there. I tried to say something, to beg them to let us go, but my voice didn't work – nothing worked properly anymore." Blaine took a deep breath. "And then they decided that, and I quote, _trash belongs with trash_ , and–"

"They didn't." It was barely a whisper, and Kurt looked _sick_. Blaine very much wanted to comfort him, tell him that it wasn't that bad, but–

"Yeah, they did. They hauled me up and dropped me into a dumpster. They were trying to push Andy in, too, but then a car came into the parking lot, so they left him and ran."

This was the moment where he started shaking, his breathing turning shallow and erratic. The memory of that fear and helplessness was much worse than that of the pain alone. He'd take pain over those any day. Talking was getting more difficult, but he fought it, pushed through the ghosts of that night, even when words felt like sharp little shards in his throat.

He remembered how hard he'd hit the bottom of the almost empty dumpster, how his whole body had seized in pain of the graceless landing, and what it had felt like to discovered that he could barely move, or even make a sound, through the pounding in his head and back. How Andy's father screamed and then attempted to awaken his son; how Blaine was trying to call out, stand up, anything to get the man to notice he was there, too. He told Kurt about the blinding, choking terror of the realization that there was no way for him to get out of there when the car sped out of the parking lot, carrying his friend to safety. How he stayed there, trapped and alone in the dark, battered and completely, utterly helpless.

By this time Blaine's heart was pounding, too fast and stuttering, and he couldn't get enough air through his tightened throat. He knew he was just panicking, he'd been through this before; knew he had to get to his Xanax – it was so close, just in his desk drawer. But it felt impossible to get there when all he could focus on was breathing, moving the right muscles, _in_ , _out_ , _in_ , because his body seemed to have forgotten how to do it on its own.

The bed dipped, _Kurt_ , right, Kurt was here, he should – he must be freaking Kurt out, he should... do something, but–

Kurt settled against his back, hands hovering uncertainly around him, and Blaine slumped back with a harsh exhale, grabbing onto Kurt's arms, tugging at them, and Kurt got it immediately, pressing him close, snug against his chest.

"Baby? What can I do to help? Where do you keep your meds, how can I–?" Kurt sounded breathless himself, scared.

"No." Blaine breathed out. Then, when he managed to get enough air again – "Just hold me."

It felt safer like this, even with his brain still insisting he was dying; Kurt's hand sliding under his t-shirt, _skin on skin_ , and Blaine was able to breathe a tiny bit easier. He focused on that, _Kurt_ and _safe_ and _breathing_ for a long, long while, until the iron bar around his chest loosened and then dissolved into nothing, leaving him exhausted and still trembling, but mostly calm. It felt like a miracle. He stirred in Kurt's arms eventually and took a deep breath.

"You don't have to tell me anything more." Kurt sounded guilty, tortured. "I'm sorry, I had no idea... I shouldn't have put you through this."

"No. I want you to know all of it, now that I started. Just, don't let go." He was eager to finish the story, get it over with.

"Of course." Kurt squeezed his hand and Blaine commenced speaking, voice only a little rough and winded.

"What followed was the scariest night of my life. I was alone, curled up in pain at the bottom of a dumpster by the empty parking lot, and I knew that no one would really look for me until Monday. My parents were away in Columbus and had no idea that I'd gone to the dance, Andy was unconscious, and my phone was lying somewhere in the dark, probably smashed after being kicked out of my hand. It was February, freezing cold, and I wasn't even dressed for the weather, seeing how we were supposed to be driven both ways. I... I really thought I was going to die there, Kurt." Blaine's throat hurt, clenched tight around the confession, and Kurt's arms around him tightened too, both hands now on the bare skin of his stomach, soothing. "I don't know how long I lay there. It was quiet and I've never felt so alone in my life. I was getting dizzy, disoriented, and eventually I was shivering so hard it was the only thing I could think of, the cold. I just... I wanted it to stop. It's pathetic, but instead of some burst of strength, determination to survive, to pull myself out of there no matter what, I just prayed for it to end."

He heard a muffled sob and half-turned in Kurt's embrace, sliding his arms around Kurt's waist and nuzzling into the crook of his neck.

"Hey, I'm still here. I didn't die, I'm right here."

"Yeah, but you _could have_ died and–" Fresh tears on Kurt's face, and Blaine slid out of his embrace and pulled him to lay on the bed together, their limbs tangling immediately. Kurt waited until he was safely pressed against Blaine before he spoke again. "So how did you get out?"

"Someone pulled me out, later that night. I don't know who it was, I was barely conscious by the time he jumped into the dumpster, and I passed out as soon as he hauled me up, the pain was just too much. But I've always thought it must have been one of those three guys who'd beaten us up. I came to when I hit the ground in the hospital parking lot, and the car sped away at once. I managed to... basically crawl, a little, until someone noticed me and took me inside." He shuddered, remembering the next few hours, and Kurt held him closer. "It still felt like hours before my parents came. I've never been at a hospital before, not as a patient, and no one wanted to tell me anything. They were just talking over me, about tests and a surgery, and then I freaked out during an MRI because I felt trapped again and they had to sedate me. And... it was the best feeling in the world, Kurt, finally getting to switch it all off. The rest I know from my parents – I went in for an emergency surgery because there was some bleeding in my brain, and between that and some hypothermia, I didn't wake up afterward like I was supposed to. I was... in a coma, I guess, for three days."

"Oh my god."

Blaine shrugged. That part had been actually easy for him, considering he'd been unconscious and unaware of the hell his parents had been enduring, not knowing if he'd wake up at all.

"There was some time at the hospital afterwards, and then weeks at home with broken ribs and a fractured wrist, followed by some physical therapy, and months of psychotherapy because I was getting panic attacks for no reason, and... I never went back to that school. Come September, I started at Dalton, but I was held back a year because of all the absences, so... now I'm here."

Kurt didn't say anything for a very long time, just held onto him as if afraid to let go. His face was still wet.

When his tears dried off, he kissed Blaine, deep and desperate and _there_ , and even though they couldn't really do more than that, he kept kissing him right until the moment he had to go home, and even then he turned back from the door twice before he actually went. His eyes never lost that haunted look.

Blaine's mom was nowhere to be seen for a while, but she came out of the laundry room when Kurt was gone, looking almost contrite.

"Okay, so I may have judged him too harshly. I'm sorry, I... you can tell Kurt he's welcome here."

Well, that was a start.


	17. Chapter 17

Kurt didn't sleep well that night, his dreams plagued by entirely too vivid images from Blaine's story, enveloped in a vague sense of dread, and really, he'd rather not sleep at all. His boyfriend bloody and unconscious was not a picture he'd ever wanted to see.

The morning rose bleak and rainy, but Kurt was already up, showered and dressed down for comfort, toiling over the most elaborate recipe for fancy breakfast rolls he could find. Kneading and rolling kept him anchored in reality and safe from succumbing to the horrifying lure of the _what if_. With his hands busy, he could think and process without getting lost or overwhelmed by emotions. And he had plenty to think about.

He had endured his share of bullying throughout his school career. He wasn't one to whine about it, but he'd always thought that he had it hard – harder than most, especially when Karofsky's abuse had escalated. And he knew that Blaine shared at least some of the experience – it was one of the first things he'd told Kurt about himself, after all. But only now did Kurt realize how much he'd marginalized it.

Blaine's calm, simple confession back in November didn't sound like anything truly bad had happened. _I let bullies chase me away_ , he said – which was nowhere close to _I was beaten so bad I had to have brain surgery_ , or _I almost died because someone didn't like me going to a dance with a boy_. And now, kneading the dough with furious force, Kurt felt the weight of shame settle heavy in his stomach.

He should have asked instead of assuming. He should have paid more attention, cared better, noticed more. He felt dizzy just thinking how close Blaine had come to not being here now, to never being a part of Kurt's life.

But mostly, he felt like he'd failed.

They'd known each other for eight months, and during all that time Kurt had no idea that his best friend – and then boyfriend – had anxiety problems. He barely knew anything specific about his past or his family, didn't know his fears or his plans for the future besides what they'd dreamed up together. Until yesterday, Kurt hadn't even known his damn age. Blaine looked and acted more mature than most sophomores Kurt knew, but he'd always assumed it was just the way Blaine was, older than his years. He hadn't thought to ask – why would he?

He needed to get his shit together. What kind of a boyfriend was he?

Blaine just didn't talk about those things, ever – Kurt realized, washing his hands after he'd laid the rolls out on the baking sheet and left them to raise. He kept his issues and his problems close to his chest in an attempt to keep Kurt and everyone else from worrying. And that may be fine with casual friends and relative strangers in Blaine's life, but between the two of them, it couldn't be like this.

How were they supposed to be together if they didn't communicate openly? How would they survive if they ever hit a rough patch or any relationship trouble – which was bound to happen sooner or later – without _really_ talking with each other? Something had to be done, they had to work it out. 

 

_Operation: Talk To Me_ started that afternoon.

It was still raining, so they were in Kurt's room (door open, family downstairs). Kurt was going through his closet, trying on clothes and weeding out those that didn't fit anymore after his recent growth spurt, while Blaine sat cross-legged on the bed, ogling him shamelessly and offering opinions that were mostly useless but very good for Kurt's ego. It felt nice, the easy companionship with a promise of a light make-out later, before Kurt's dad inevitably looked in on them – but Kurt had _plans_.

"What happened to your friend? After Sadie Hawkins?"

The adoring smile faded on Blaine's face.

"Andy? I... don't really know." Kurt looked at him alarmed, and Blaine rushed to correct. "I mean, he's fine, I just never talked to him again. I tried calling him a month after the dance, but he'd already changed his number. He didn't answer my emails, and deleted his Facebook account. I saw him once at the mall last summer. He was with a girl, holding hands, and when he noticed me, he turned away and hid in the closest store. _Victoria's Secret_ , incidentally."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

Blaine shrugged. "It's okay. It's not like we were best friends, and I guess everyone has their way of dealing with stuff. It stung back then, but I'm fine."

Kurt wondered just how many things Blaine made himself to be _fine_ with.

"Okay, another thing – your mom said something about me wanting to have you at my school. What was that about? When have I ever done anything to make you come to McKinley? I mean, you pick me up sometimes, or drop by for a performance, but I'm not forcing you, am I?"

Suddenly, Blaine couldn't meet his eyes, his cheeks turning pink. "No, that's... something else entirely. I may have... _ah_... told my parents that I want to transfer. To your school."

Kurt's eyes grew wide. "You did _what_? When?"

"Um. A few weeks after you transferred back? It didn't work, obviously. And I already told my mom it wasn't your idea, I'm sorry she yelled at you."

Kurt waved his hand dismissively, still stunned. "It's okay. But... you wanted to transfer to be with me? Really?"

Blaine nodded, the tips of his ears bright red now. "Yeah."

"But what about Dalton? And the Warblers?"

Blaine shrugged and looked away. "Dalton isn't the same without you. Nothing is the same. Not even the Warblers."

Kurt narrowed his eyes. His instincts were tingling. "What aren't you telling me?"

"They've been... pretty cold towards me lately. At least some of them." Blaine admitted quietly. "There might have been a discussion about not having one main lead next year, too, about preferential treatment and some such. But it's not just that, Kurt, it's not the reason – I just... I think I'm ready to brave public school again. With you. Except my parents don't agree, so–"

" _Blaine_." It was overwhelming, the amount of love Kurt felt for this boy, so trusting and ready to uproot his whole life, leave his safe haven to be with him. He couldn't find the words, not yet, so he just flew into Blaine's arms and let his lips speak in feverish presses until the sound of a door slamming shut downstairs broke them apart. Panting and flushed, they moved away from each other, glancing guiltily at the open door and straightening their clothes.

"Um, so... any more questions?" Blaine flashed him a bashful smile, and oh, Kurt just wanted to kiss him again – kiss him forever, if only they could find some place to be really alone–

He cleared his throat.

"Why didn't you tell me we are the same age?"

It wasn't an accusation, Kurt made sure not to make it sound like one. Still, Blaine looked uncomfortable as he answered.

"You never asked."

"How could I–" Kurt could feel his voice raising – exasperation, not anger, but he tamped it down quickly anyway. "Blaine, I shouldn't _have to_ ask. I don't want to have to ask, I want us to talk about things, big things and little things and difficult things, and what we feel and why. It's important. I want to know when you have trouble with your parents, or your anxiety, or anything. Please don't make me guess. I _love you_ , I _care_."

"But it's embarrassing." Blaine pulled his knees up to his chest. "I don't want you to look at me like I'm weak or needy or like I have... issues. I can be strong for you."

Kurt knelt on the bed and put his hand on Blaine's leg. "You _are_ strong. You are also human. So am I. We both have our weaker moments. You've seen mine more than once, does it mean you see me as weak?"

"God no, Kurt–"

"See? I don't, either – you're my amazing, brave boyfriend, and I want to know all the sides of you. It doesn't make me think any less of you when you open up, it just makes me love you more. I have to know when you need me, and _what_ you need. Please, we have to put on enough fronts for the rest of the world, don't you think? Let's not put up walls between us, too."

Blaine was looking at him with his big puppy eyes, so earnest and soft. "Okay. I'll try, I promise. But... I'm not used to it, sharing my problems, so you may need to remind me sometimes?"

"I can do that." Kurt's hand slid under Blaine's t-shirt and over to his hipbone. "Thank you." 

 

So for the next few weeks, they talked – really talked, about everything: their pasts and families, early crushes and childhood memories, phobias and quirks and medical facts ("You never know when we might need to know each other's blood type, or allergies." Kurt said when Blaine looked at him funny. "I hope we never will, but I'd rather be prepared."). When Blaine left for a week-long stint at Six Flags where he subbed for their regular entertainer, they talked on the phone for hours every night, staving off the separation sickness and the longing. And when they were finally back together, they still talked, not just because it felt good, but because they could hardly do the other things they so desperately wanted.

It was ridiculous how little time alone they could get. For the last few weeks of school Kurt had been fantasizing about the freedom that summer would bring – long hours together every day in empty houses while their parents worked. But the reality turned out to be quite different.

They did have a lot of time together, which was amazing, but empty houses? Not so much. There were always people anywhere they ended up. Carole worked shifts at the hospital, so she was often home during the day even when Kurt's dad wasn't. Finn was always around, too, and where there was Finn, there was usually also Rachel, or Puck, or any number of the Glee guys, and it was noisy and fun, but not exactly what the two of them hoped for. At Blaine's house they could close the door at least, but his mom didn't work and was always around, even if she wasn't quite so hostile anymore, so it only meant they could make out without straining their ears for steps on the stairs.

Going any further under these circumstances was out of the question – neither of them was comfortable with clothes coming off when there were other people in the house, and no matter how desperate they were, walking around with drying come in their pants, especially when interacting with the other's family, was a prospect that helped them cool off more than once.

But it wasn't easy. Hormones simmering in the summer heat, clothes that revealed more than they covered, kisses that ignited the want instead of sating it even a fraction – by the last week of July, Kurt was a hot mess, almost ready to forget about the risk and find a quiet spot to get some privacy in a car, if nothing else worked. Something had to change and soon, or he would surely explode.

***

"Blaine... please tell me you two are being safe at least."

Blaine glanced up at his mom from the passenger's seat. Her knuckles were white on the steering wheel, her face set in grim determination, but at least she was talking to him. Apart from the "Get dressed, we're going to get groceries " earlier, this was the first time she had actually spoken to him since she'd walked in on him saying goodbye to Kurt last night. Pressed against the front door. With Blaine's hands high under Kurt's shirt ( _he was just reaching to stroke his mark, honestly_ ) and his thigh kind of... slotted between Kurt's legs ( _but only for a second_ ). And okay, there might have been that little moan he'd made into their kiss, but–

Really, she'd chosen the worst possible moment to come in from the backyard.

To her credit, she'd left immediately. But then she was cold and silent all evening, refusing to listen to Blaine when he tried – awkwardly – to explain, and Kurt was frantic on the phone later that night, convinced that he could never, ever show his face at Blaine's house again, and it was all a terrible mess.

And now this. Blaine shook his head a little, confused.

"Of course we are safe. It's not like we wander around the bad parts of town or anything. We don't go out late at night, we don't have suspicious friends or–"

"Blaine." She still wasn't looking at him, her eyes set firmly on the road, but even her profile betrayed discomfort. "That's not what I mean. Are you... do you use condoms?"

Air escaped from Blaine's lungs as if he'd been punched. _Oh_. He could feel his face burn with a furious blush when he finally found his voice.  
"Well, I'm sure we will one day, but mom, we've only been together four months, it's a long way until we _need_ condoms."

Where did that question even come from? Did she really think they'd been having sex behind the closed door to Blaine's room all that time? Sure, they'd been doing things, but apart from that one hurried repeat of prom night back at Kurt's house (after which Blaine was unable to look Burt in the eye for a week), and Kurt's hand one glorious, unforgettable day two weeks ago when Blaine's mom had gone out to the store for ten minutes, they hadn't moved past make-outs, no matter how much they wanted.

And even if they had the chance, neither of them was ready to go _that_ far, not anytime soon.

His mom looked at him fully for the first time since last night. Luckily, the road in front of them was empty.

"Oh."

That was it. No more comments, and in the store she acted as if nothing had happened, asking him about dinner preferences and ice cream flavors, and even buying his favorite fancy coffee blend, and Blaine breathed out a relieved sigh. The drop in tension was palpable. Now he could go to Kurt's and assure him that he didn't have to move to Alaska to avoid meeting his mom ever again.

But the biggest surprise came the next morning, when Blaine was sitting at the kitchen table, sleepily buttering his toast. His father was already at the office, and his mom came in, clicking her high heels, light summer jacket on and her keys in hand. She grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge.

"Morning. Is Kurt coming over today?"

Blaine frowned. "Maybe? I don't know yet, why?" He said cautiously. They hadn't decided what they would do this afternoon when Kurt was done with his shift at the garage, both still a little apprehensive after the other day.

"Because I'm going to dinner with your father tonight after the spa, but if you boys want to eat in, there's stew in the fridge. We should be back around ten." She smiled at his bewildered face and added softly. "I guess I should trust you a little more. Just... be smart, okay?"

She left with a kiss to Blaine's forehead, leaving him with an open mouth and a suspicious feeling he must be still dreaming. 

 

Kurt did come over that afternoon, of course. There was no way they could pass up the opportunity to be completely, perfectly alone for the whole... oh, six hours.

It felt unreal, a dream come true, and now that they were here, he was at a loss for a moment – so many possibilities, so much time, just for them, undisturbed. Blaine didn't know where to start, his hands flailing a little as he stood in the middle of his room, the door closed and the whole house empty and quiet around them.

Thankfully, he had Kurt there – Kurt, who simply took him by the hand and led him to the bed, and they fell into each other like they'd done so many times before, kissing and touching and _there_. Except this time they didn't have to stop when the kisses turned needy and fierce, didn't have to swallow their moans when Kurt rolled onto his back, pulling Blaine on top of him, their hips pressing together. He could freely explore the sensitive skin on Kurt's neck without worrying that the breathless whimpers his tongue and teeth evoked would be heard through the door.  
And most importantly, they could undress each other, as slowly and as far as they wanted.

They hadn't seen each other naked yet – and once they passed the relatively familiar boundary of shirtlessness, once they touched and kissed every inch of skin they could reach, returning to their marks over and over again, there was a pause. They looked at each other, flushed and expectant, on the precipice of new territory. Blaine stroked his finger along the waistband of Kurt's jeans, raising goosebumps on his stomach.

"May I?"

Kurt nodded, his eyes wide and never leaving Blaine's. The belt, the button, the slow slide of the zipper. Kurt's hips raised to let him slide the pants down. And then there he was, naked save for the black boxer briefs hugging him so perfectly, enveloping the bulge of his erection that Blaine had felt before but never saw like this, close and clear and unmistakable. _He_ did this. He made Kurt feel this way, arch his hips upward, straining for contact when he stroked his thigh.

"God, Blaine. You too, please, _now_."

It was a bit of a surprise how self-conscious he felt pulling off his pants, considering that Kurt had seen him without them already, after the prom. But the lights had been off then and they'd been in bed most of the time, and now Kurt's eyes were huge and dark and trained on him, his tongue flicking out unconsciously to lick his lips. Blaine blushed his way through the process, sliding off the bed to step out of his pants.

He was just about to get back to his boyfriend, the acres of milky skin begging him to touch, when Kurt jumped off the bed. The press of his almost naked body made Blaine sway on his feet, and then Kurt's hands were smoothing down his back until his thumbs dipped just under the waistband of Blaine's red briefs, stealing his breath away.

"Can I... underwear, too? Or is it too much?"

Blaine drew a sharp breath. Definitely not too much, he just wanted _skin_ , no layers left between them. He braced his palms on Kurt's hips and nodded.

"Can I take yours off, too?"

"Yes."

Kurt was flushed pink and breathing fast, his hands warm as they slid down to Blaine's ass, and the next moment they were both naked – completely bare against each other, kissing and moaning and there were hands _everywhere_ and so much _skin_ and thank god the bed was just there because Blaine was fairly certain he would just fold down to the floor otherwise, and he wouldn't even care as long as Kurt was there with him.

He had thought about this moment before, imagined it dozens of times – all the options that opened with the _more_ that they both wanted. Handjobs. Blowjobs. Mutual masturbation. Grinding together until they came. Rimming if they got bold. He was a walking, dreaming encyclopedia of sex acts that could happen – that had happened in his fantasies so many times Kurt would probably think he was a pervert if he knew.

But now, tangled with Kurt on his bed, Blaine didn't think of any of those. All that mattered was how perfectly close they were without any clothes between them, Kurt hot and soft-over-hard, and so _so_ beautiful Blaine's heart was breaking a little, and his hands wanted to learn every inch of that skin, everywhere. The warm hollow behind Kurt's knee, the planes of his back, the tickly sides of his ribs. The vulnerable crease of his thigh. His cock, thick and solid and pink, that Blaine only had a chance to glance at before Kurt rolled them and pulled him into his arms. Because Kurt wanted to touch him too, just as much, it seemed, and they both wanted to kiss all through this frenzy of skin and sensations. Never stop kissing.

Kurt coming was a surprise – a strangled moan and a bite to Blaine's lip, and the pulsing wet heat against his thigh. Blaine's hand had just slid down to Kurt's ass, his fingers skimming along the cleft, and he only had time to realize how close he was himself before his hips were bucking into Kurt's abdomen, his back arching and _whoa_ , Kurt's skin was like silk, hot, firm silk with just enough friction from the soft hair running down his belly, and hey, what a brilliant idea not to do this with anyone around because Blaine had _not_ known how loud he could apparently get.

And then they were catching their breath and smiling, and touching – always touching, hands and foreheads and tangled legs, and it wasn't weird or embarrassing in the slightest like Blaine had feared the aftermath might be. It was hot in the room so they stayed on top of the sheets, unabashedly naked, and the quick cleanup with the tissues was enough for now because the shower, though tempting, was too far away in their sated, loose state. Kurt rolled them over so that he could lie with his head on Blaine's shoulder, tracing the brown letters of his own name with his fingertip until the delicious tingling made Blaine stir and fill again, and then Kurt's curious fingertips moved, exploring and enticing.

Slower, less desperate now, they fell into each other again. 

 

"Don't you think we could tell your parents about the marks now that they are more or less okay with us?"

They were sitting at the edge of the swimming pool at the back of Blaine's house, their feet lazily treading water in a vain attempt to combat the early August heat. It was the weekend and both of Blaine's parents were around, so actually dipping into the pool was out of the question – or it was for Kurt at least. Swimming in his shirt would look weird and he had no way of going shirtless without revealing the mark under his collarbone, all too obvious in the bright sun. Blaine was being a good boyfriend and suffering along even though the name on his hip was easier to hide if he simply hiked up his swimming trunks.

He startled at the question and glanced guiltily at Kurt.

"No. I'm sorry, I just don't want to stir the pot. I'm afraid if I give them this to accept on top of everything else right now, it will be too much. They both hate all kinds of mysteries, and this is still new and weird and something they've never even heard of. I don't think they would just take it at face value like your parents did."

Kurt nodded, looking intently at the water. "What if you snuck them an article or two to read? It's not some mumbo jumbo after all, _scientists_ are working on it, so there should be some kind of development soon."

Blaine bit his lip, torn between giving Kurt anything he wanted and holding onto this new and wonderful peace treaty between him and his parents.

"It won't help. Not unless everyone has those, unless it's a normal thing. Otherwise I'll be just a freak in yet another way, especially to my father. It doesn't matter that I didn't choose this, just like I didn't choose my sexuality. I stick out, and not in a way to be proud of. That's what counts. They just want me to be _normal_. I'm afraid they might want me to remove it or something."

Kurt gasped. "They wouldn't!"

"I don't know." Blaine shrugged. "I bet they'd make me remove the gay if it was possible."

Kurt took his hand and squeezed it in silence, and Blaine managed a small smile. Yes, things were much better now, especially with his mom. But there'd been enough harsh words in his past, enough cutting comments that still hurt to this day, to know that he was stepping on thin ice. No, the marks would have to stay a secret. His parents didn't need to know. They didn't even know that such a thing existed, and that was just fine with Blaine.

Except it was about to change very soon.


	18. Chapter 18

The story started small, in the first week of August – just a mention about the "strange phenomenon" in the morning news on a slow day. By the evening it had been quoted in the _Health_ sections of all the major news sites. " _Random names appearing on people's bodies_ ", " _tiny percentage of the population_ ", " _no reason to worry_ ", " _the scientists are working on understanding the anomaly_ ". And the word that seemed to catch everyone's attention, just one of the potential explanations thrown in dismissively among scientific jargon: " _soulmates_ ".

The sheer volume of responses and comments was staggering and within days, the story grew and ballooned, until it was everywhere – huge articles in newspapers and premium spots on TV news, floods of discussions all over the internet. Soon it was revealed that the percentage of people with marks wasn't that small, after all – according to different sources, it was already between 5 and 10% of Americans, and probably just as much all over the world. And the numbers were still growing, with new cases reported every day.

Suddenly, there were "experts" everywhere – doctors and philosophers, geneticists and priests and self-proclaimed mystics, stating their opinions and beliefs with unshakeable conviction. The marks were called a plague or a miracle, people with names on their bodies were either _diseased_ or _chosen_ , _blessed_ or _cursed_ , depending on who you asked. Stories of happily "matched" couples were countered by tales of anguish by people who suffered ridicule and embarrassment because their marks appeared in highly visible spots.

Five days after the first reports, a well-known plastic surgeon announced he'd recently developed the most effective method of removing the "obnoxious markings", and offered discounts for the first ten patients interested in the procedure. In reply, a celebrity wedding planner called the marks "the most beautiful proof of destiny existing" and promised her services for free to the first "soulmate couple" who wanted to tie the knot. The internet was abuzz, people divided between those squealing with excitement at the romanticism of the soulmates idea, those predicting horrible things to come out of this new epidemic, and the usual angry crowd demanding an explanation, a cure, money, or the resignation of the president. Everywhere you went for days, people hardly talked about any other news.

Blaine was watching all this in silent dread.

He and Kurt had agreed not to reveal their marks to anyone who hadn't known by then, which meant only being _out_ to Tina and Mike, and Kurt's dad and Carole. Even Finn didn't know yet. They were still waiting for Blaine's parents' reaction to all the hype, hoping it would be positive, or at least open-minded enough to let them stop hiding their connection. But days went by and Mr. and Mrs. Anderson seemed completely uninterested in the issue that was on everyone's tongues.

Blaine refused to start the topic himself, unwilling to draw attention. Discussing news and current events wasn't really something they did at his home. But he made a habit of watching TV with his parents on those evenings when he wasn't out with Kurt, hoping for... anything, really. A comment, a discussion, even just some indication of their opinions.

It took a whole week since that first news for his parents to say anything at all.

Another mark-related story was just airing – several couples who were "matched" by the names on their skin speaking about how perfect it felt when they'd found each other – when Blaine's father grabbed the remote with a frustrated huff.

"For god's sake, isn't it time to stop talking about some damn skin disease and go back to reporting important news? Who cares what your freckles say, people! _Soulmates_ , indeed." He changed the channel with a vicious stab of his thumb.

Blaine's heart dropped. Not that he was surprised by his father's attitude – it was exactly what he'd thought it would be – but he would lie if he said he hadn't _hoped_ , just a little...

"But it sounds real, don't you think?" He couldn't stop himself. "I mean, all those marks must have some function, right? And people do find each other, and they _fit_ together, it makes sense."

"Oh Blaine, of course you'd think that, you're so _young_." His mom cooed soothingly, reaching over to stroke his hand. "But there's no such thing as soulmates. There isn't just one perfect person destined to be with you. A good relationship is more than a meeting of predestined lovers that leads to a happily ever after, real life doesn't work like that."

"I know." He mumbled through a clenching throat. No ally there either, then. It hurt more than it should. "It's just... a nice concept, I guess."

"It's a beautiful one, yes. But believing it only leads to heartbreak." There was something off in his mom's voice, a hint of distress on her face as she glanced down at her hand, still covering Blaine's. A blink and it was gone, covered by a smile. "Aren't you going to bed?"

"Yeah, I should." It wasn't his bedtime yet, not even close, but he had a feeling tonight's phone call with Kurt would be a long one. He got up from the couch and kissed his mom's cheek. "Goodnight." 

 

Keeping the secret was even harder now that all of their friends were talking about it. Suddenly marks on skin were like a cool new gadget. Everyone wondered about them – what they felt like, what they really meant – and Tina and Mike, who had revealed theirs for what they really were as soon as the news spread around, found themselves answering a thousand questions from their fascinated friends time and again. And it wasn't that Blaine envied them the exposure, especially the way relative strangers would stop them to inquire about the marks sometimes – frankly, that part was creepy. But hiding, pretending not to know when their friends discussed how it must feel to have a soulmate, or argued whether or not such a concept was even real, somehow felt like betrayal to him, like tainting the most beautiful thing in his life with secrecy. He would never deny what Kurt meant to him, but this felt exactly like what he was doing.

Kurt was infinitely patient and understanding, and did everything a perfect boyfriend would do – and that made it even harder. Harder to watch when Kurt's jaw clenched tight every time someone spoke about Tina and Mike being the one chosen couple among them, dismissing the rest as silly high school romances; harder to stand there, holding Kurt's hand, and pretend it wasn't his soulmate right there. And when Finn came home one afternoon in the middle of August brokenhearted because Rachel discovered a name on her breast that wasn't his, it was almost physically painful to listen to Kurt speak about how having this kind of connection must be so very special and worth waiting for, and how maybe Finn would know that feeling one day, too – maybe they all would. The look on Kurt's face almost broke Blaine's resolve and made him come out with the marks to the whole world right there and then.

But it would only make Finn feel worse, so he pushed it aside in favor of being a good friend – and by the time he returned home that night, the courage had somehow melted away again, leaving just the selfish fear of change.

Because what Blaine had now was the closest to acceptance he'd felt from his parents since the day he came out. It seemed like they were finally okay with his sexuality, or at least as close as they would ever get. Jeopardizing that when he'd yearned for it for so long was... unthinkably hard. He would do that for Kurt, of course he would – he would do anything, if Kurt asked.

But Kurt hadn't asked. Not yet, at least.

So Blaine was stuck between enjoying the peace at home and feeling guilty towards Kurt, which resulted in trying to make it up to Kurt any way he could, any time he was allowed. Which was a lot, considering that Blaine's mom threw herself back into her social life now that she'd decided her self-imposed chaperone duty was no longer needed. She was out of the house most of the time Kurt and Blaine were there, which led to many delicious hours spent slowly discovering each other, hidden away in Blaine's bedroom.

If Blaine could draw, he'd be able to sketch every inch of Kurt's gorgeous body from memory by now, every dip and curve, every shadow, every freckle.

He really regretted that he couldn't draw.

He could take pictures; in fact, he had dozens of visions in his head of exactly how he would love to capture Kurt – beautiful, artistic nudes both in color and sepia tones – but it was too early for that, as Kurt's furious blush when he mentioned it told him.

Those last few weeks, they'd learned a lot – about pleasure, and each other, and how their marks figured in all that. They'd learned to hold back when one of them came instead of immediately following the shared thrill of pleasure, and discovered that while increased sensitivity to each other's reactions was definitely real, the phantom orgasms didn't happen when they were together. Kurt's theory was that it was a mind thing, since it only worked when they were thinking of the other – and not much thinking happened when they were actually close, able to see and touch for real. Blaine didn't really care how it worked – having Kurt in his arms was better than any phantom sensations ever.

There were so many things Blaine had discovered he loved during those long hours of privacy they had now. Kurt's hands, of course, the way his touch was so different from Blaine's own, and yet so perfect in its shy, exploratory gentleness. The sounds Kurt made just before he came, high and helpless, so desperate. The way Kurt kept pushing the levels of his own sexiness up into the stratosphere, with barely a blink and a teasing smile. Blaine thought his brain would explode with it sometimes – like that day when Kurt straddled his hips, all flushed and naked, gleaming with a fine sheen of sweat from the hot humidity of the room, his hand working over his own cock with slow deliberation until he came all over Blaine's mark, that spot so sensitive and private, sizzling with pleasure.

But being naked together wasn't the only thing they did with their time alone – far from it. They spent hours in the backyard, swimming and reading and talking, and lounging in the hammock. It turned out Kurt was actually okay with the sun as long as his sunscreen was always within easy reach. When it got too hot, they watched movies in the delightful coolness of the den, and on a few cold days they baked cookies together, making an awful mess in the kitchen because seeing Kurt all domestic caused Blaine to get handsy every single time, and then there was flour everywhere and chocolate smeared on their skin, and thank god the oven had a timer or they would probably cause a fire alarm on more than one occasion. Not to mention, burnt cookies.  
Kurt wouldn't forgive him burnt cookies.

All through August it felt like they had all the time in the world, the long lazy summer days filled with love and closeness and friends, no hurry at all. And then it was suddenly the last week of their vacation and like a switch flipped, everything felt urgent as the school year and the separation it would bring drew nearer with every passing hour. 

 

_Seven days left_.

They had lunch with Rachel, newly single and annoying in all of her freshly-marked self-importance. They were both fidgeting in their seats by the time she was done with her half-hour monologue about the importance of not wasting her time with the wrong person, now that she knew without a doubt her soulmate was waiting for her out there in New York. When she started lecturing them on the signs to look for, expressing her hope they would one day get to experience the indescribable feeling of knowing their true love's name, Kurt looked like he was about to snap, his jaw clenched and his fingers playing with the neck of his t-shirt. Blaine really wouldn't blame him. Maybe it would make her stop talking at least. 

 

_Six days_.

They spent the whole afternoon with Kurt's family. A barbecue in the backyard turned into a jam session when Puck and Sam arrived with their guitars, and it was warm and fun and peaceful and no one even blinked at Kurt and Blaine cuddling together on the porch swing, so used to the view after all those months. It felt so good that they didn't even try to sneak in and up to Kurt's room for some privacy in the evening, just shared a few chaste kisses and smiled softly into their _I love yous_ before Blaine drove home. It was one of those days Blaine knew would stay in his memory forever as a reminder of times when everything was right in the world, if only for a moment.

  

_Five days_.

Kurt was on top of him, kissing-licking his way down – all the way down over the skin thrumming with desire, slow and tender and not stopping, never stopping until–

Kitten licks to the head of Blaine's cock, hot and wet and shocking, and Blaine arched up, babbling, begging, all control gone in an instant. More shy little licks, Kurt tasting the beads of precome at the tip of Blaine's cock, swirling his tongue around with a thoughtful, captivated expression. Then kisses – down the length of Blaine's cock, and lower, over his balls. He pushed Blaine's legs apart to better settle between them – and that was it. Blaine lost it, the feeling of being so open all of a sudden, so exposed for Kurt enough to push him over the edge.

Afterwards, Kurt was suddenly shy and flushed pink, with a wet spot spreading on the front of his blue boxer-briefs that he hadn't even had time to take off before they'd fallen into each other. And then there was a sound of the garage door opening and they were scrambling for their clothes, so there was no chance for the second round, no matter how much Blaine wanted to have his turn, too. But the delicious possessive thrill that ran through him when Kurt went out of the bathroom wearing Blaine's borrowed boxers was something he definitely needed to file away to think about later because, _ohmygod_. 

 

_Four days_.

They talked – about yesterday, about what they wanted, what they were ready for, and what they weren't, yet. And then they implemented the new knowledge and _oh wow_ , Blaine really _really_ liked to suck cock.

They went outside afterwards to make use of the last bits of freedom in the sun, resisting the temptation to just stay in Blaine's bedroom forever, taking turns to learn everything there was to know about blowjobs. They were giddy and excited, and swimming led to a tickle fight in the pool, which ended with dropping onto the blanket in a giggling wet mess and kissing until they dozed off under the huge garden umbrella, warm and tired and happy.

They slept longer than they should, only waking up when the evening chill started to creep in on their almost-naked bodies, but fortunately there was no one home still, so all was good. 

 

_Three._  
They had a plan – dinner and movies in Lima, but Blaine's mom shocked him in the morning with a request to call Kurt and invite him to eat dinner with them. _Them_. As in, both of Blaine's parents. He had to ask her to repeat because he was certain he misheard.

He didn't.

So he called, and Kurt accepted, and then he spent half a day calling Blaine every half hour obsessing about his outfit for the evening. They went to the movies anyway, but then drove to Blaine's home, and the dinner was... wonderful, actually. The conversation was smooth and lively, his parents behaved as if they'd never had anything against Kurt in the first place, and before Kurt went home, Blaine's mom _hugged him goodbye_. And Blaine had to pinch himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming. 

 

_Two_.

When Kurt had said last week that he wanted to drive to Columbus for the day, Blaine thought it would be just a shopping opportunity before school began, a little change of scenery. He didn't expect them to stop by the Ohio State campus so that Kurt could take a look around.

"How can I go to New York next year, and leave you here?" was all he said to Blaine's shocked inquiry.

There was silence in the car on their way back, but it was loud and chaotic in Blaine's head. It shouldn't be like this. It wasn't right for Kurt to give up his dream just so that they could stay close next year.

But when he actually thought of the distance, he wasn't sure he could bear the alternative. 

 

_One._

Blaine came home late that evening after the end-of-summer party at Brittany's. The day had been fun, but when the time came to say goodnight to Kurt, the mood shifted and now Blaine was just immensely sad. Grateful for the summer they'd had, but painfully aware how hard it was going to be now, only seeing each other every day after school again. If they even had time to meet every day. It was Kurt's senior year, after all.

Blaine's mom knocked on his bedroom door just as he'd finished preparing his bag for the morning. She was in her nightgown already, her hair loose and make-up washed off. Secretly, this was Blaine's favorite look on her, so natural and different from the one she wore for the world to see. Even her smile was different like this – warmer, more private.

She hovered in the doorway, the way she did when she came to say goodnight sometimes. "Hey, how was the party?"

Blaine shrugged and took out his Dalton uniform, freshly cleaned and pressed, to hang it on his closet door, ready for the morning.

"It was good. You know – we had a bonfire and sang a lot. There were some silly games Brittany came up with... it was fun."

His mom nodded and came in, closing the door before she sat down at the edge of his bed. It didn't look like she had only come to say goodnight after all.

"So... they really are your friends, too? Not just Kurt's?"

"They are. Well, some of them more than others, but we've spent so much time together by now that it really feels like I'm an adopted member of New Directions. Um, that's their Glee club."

His mom looked as if she wasn't really listening, just looking at him uncertainly. It was confusing. He was just about to ask her what was wrong when–

"Do you still want to transfer?" It was quiet but clear, and it knocked Blaine completely off-balance, his mom's dark eyes earnest and inquisitive on him.

"Mom?"

"I talked to your father today and we decided... if you want to. If you really want to, for you, not just for Kurt."

In a heartbeat, he was kneeling by her feet, grabbing her hands. "You're really letting me transfer? Now?"

She laughed that quiet, bright laugh of hers. "Well, not _now_. But we'll go to Dalton in the morning, you and me, to take care of the paperwork. You should be able to start at McKinley in a few days. If you're sure."

"I'm sure. I really, really am, mom."

He was _so_ sure. The thought of going back to Dalton had been a heavy cloud over his head lately, and not just because of the dreaded separation from Kurt. Dalton had felt like home once, like a safe haven. But the last few months there had felt more and more like a cage that Blaine had fled as soon as he could. Nothing kept him there anymore. Not even the Warblers, now that the council members had graduated and the new voices had grown, demanding changes to the old traditions, to the classy image that Blaine loved.

Yes, he was ready to say goodbye to Dalton. And being close to Kurt this year was what he wanted most in the world, too. But... he shook his head minutely.

"Mom? Why now? What happened? I mean... you invited Kurt to dinner, you _hugged_ him, and now _this_. It feels like something changed, and I'm over the moon about it, don't get me wrong, I just don't know... _why_?"

He couldn't decipher the look on her face – it was soft and tender, but also so very sad that it almost scared him. But before he had time to worry, she reached out and raised the hem of his shirt, uncovering his left side.

"Because of this."

His mark. Out in the open, clear and obvious above the low-slung waist of his pajama pants, unmistakable to anyone who'd had any contact with mass media lately. Blaine reached to stroke Kurt's name on instinct.

His mom _knew_. And she wasn't... angry, or disappointed?

"How did you–?"

"I came by the house a few days ago to pick up a book I'd forgotten, and found you two asleep by the pool. It was kind of hard not to notice." Blaine shook his head, incredulous, but she just smiled. "How long have you had them?"

"Since Christmas. Both of us." He whispered. Her eyebrows shot up.

"Eight months?"

"Yeah. But... mom, you said you don't _believe_ in soulmates."

She smiled sadly and let his t-shirt fall back down. "I did believe in them once. And then I stopped. Because even if it were real, having a soulmate and being with them doesn't immediately mean a happy ending. It's not a surefire happiness recipe, and it doesn't mean you can't have a great life with someone else. I just... I didn't want you to get too hung up on the idea, with all the hype around. But now that I know about you and Kurt, it's more than an abstract. I've seen the way he looks at you, how happy he makes you, and now those marks. That's all I want for you, Blaine. To be happy."

"I _am_ happy with him, mom. I never knew being with someone could feel so perfect."

She smiled and threaded her fingers through his hair, something she hadn't done in years.

"I'm glad to hear that."

They sat in silence for a moment, until Blaine couldn't resist anymore. "Mom? Who was it? The one that made you believe in soulmates once?"

She hesitated, reaching to play with the ring on her right hand, a silver band shaped into a wide wreath of ivy leaves that covered her ring finger almost to the knuckle. Now that Blaine thought of it, he didn't think he'd ever seen this ring on her until recently.

His mom saw him looking and her mouth quirked in a wry smile. "It doesn't matter. That was before I met your father and chose a future with him. And... I have my family. I chose this family and I will always choose it. But if that's what soulmates mean, if Kurt makes you feel _that_ way, then who am I to stand in the way of your happiness? Just... treasure what you have, Blaine. It's a precious thing. And a fragile one."

His eyes stung when she stroked his cheek and he pressed his face into her warm hand.

"I do, mom. I will."

 


	19. Chapter 19

Barely three days in, Kurt's senior year was already shaping up to be terrible, making the bubbly, relaxed feeling summer left him with a distant memory.

It wasn't just the fact that he and Blaine were in different schools, either. It was... everything, really. _Everything_ was wrong.

Once again, they were a few members short in the Glee club, so the usual hunt for anyone with semi-functioning vocal chords began. It ended in a massive food fight when Rachel had a _brilliant_ idea to do a number in the school cafeteria in order to lure any interested students in with a promise of fun.

Kurt's clothes would never recover. And the only new member they got out of the ordeal, Sugar Motta, was completely devoid of any musical talent and very possibly batshit crazy. Still, to everyone's surprise, Mr. Schue let her in, which meant he was either _that_ desperate, or so affected by his private drama that he didn't care about the Glee club at all.

It only took them a day to find out the reason for their director's unusually sharp, snappy attitude. The beautiful smooth script adorning the front of Ms. Pillsbury's neck like a necklace was impossible to miss. Large brown letters spelled _Carl Howell_ , and if anyone had any doubt their school counselor had found her soulmate over the summer, it was easily dispelled during lunch hour, when the glass walls of her office revealed her once-husband feeding her fruit with a smitten look on his face. Clearly the magic of the marks had helped to resolve any differences they might have had in the past, as evidenced by Ms. Pillsbury's radiant smiles. Rumor had it they were already planning another, proper wedding over Christmas.

She wasn't the only one who'd gotten her mark during the summer. Apart from Rachel, who kept her nose up and the name she found secret (which didn't stop her from babbling about her experience to anyone who didn't run fast enough), there were several other people at McKinley who sported fresh marks. Jacob Ben Israel spent the first two days of school running around, sticking his microphone in people's faces and asking them what they thought of the soulmates issue and if they had something new to share. Which, of course, only deepened Kurt's foul mood because as much as he'd love to show off Blaine's name, they were still keeping their marks a secret. At least he kept his cool and didn't go all berserk when he heard the word _soulmates_ , like Finn did.

It was safe to say Finn wasn't a fan of the concept.

The other big topic in those first days of school was college plans, which really didn't make Kurt feel any better. He'd made his decision. He was _fine_ with his decision. Really, he was. But the thought of explaining it to his friends just gave him a headache, so he didn't say anything, claiming he still wasn't sure. It was enough that Rachel made him feel like shit with her impassioned speech about how he would be a coward, not to mention ruin her perfect New York plans, if he changed his mind _now_. It took a lot of self-control not to yell at her in all of her self-important indignity and remind her that not everything was about her.

The funny thing was, if Kurt only said he was waiting a year so that he could go to New York with his soulmate, everyone would understand and applaud, like they did for Tina and Mike. Changing your plans for your soulmate was perceived as romantic and right. Changing them for a boyfriend or a girlfriend? Stupid, immature and irresponsible.

Kurt didn't even want to think about what his father would say about it. But this conversation could wait a little longer. He really wasn't looking forward to it.

The icing on the cake of this week was Blaine's behavior. Kurt had known they would have much less time for each other once classes started. But it was the very beginning of the year, there wasn't much homework yet and the after-school activities were only just starting, and already Blaine seemed to be busier than ever. He hadn't been able to meet Kurt at all the first day of school, claiming he was running errands with his mom, and then yesterday he'd only managed to squeeze a quick coffee at the Lima Bean into his schedule. Plus, he'd acted weird, all jittery and excited for no apparent reason. If Kurt didn't know better, he'd think Blaine was hiding something from him.

Wait, did he actually know better? Blaine talked to him about everything, right? At least Kurt had thought he did.

Oh great. Like he needed _that_ thought on top of everything.

More frustrated than ever, he finished fixing his hair and was taking out the book he needed for his next class when a very familiar voice came from a few feet away.

"Hey you."

Kurt _stared_. 

 

Late that night, already in bed with the lights switched off, Kurt still had trouble believing that any of it had actually happened. Blaine finding him at school in the middle of the day, looking all casual and gorgeous, to tell him that he'd just transferred. Blaine's performance/audition in McKinley's courtyard. Their conversation in Kurt's room after school, when he'd learned all about Mrs. Anderson's change of heart.

Not only could they come out with their marks now; they would see each other at school every day, sing and dance together at Glee, have time – so much time, for normal, everyday boyfriend things, without struggling to meet every afternoon despite distance and school work.

Kurt couldn't be happier – and yet, he found himself unable to fall asleep. It all felt too good to be true, and so unexpected – what if he woke up in the morning only to realize it was all a dream? Only hesitating for a moment because of the late hour, he picked up his phone from the bedside table. Blaine answered on the first ring, sounding barely awake, and Kurt let out the words in a single breath.

"Please promise me you will really be there in the morning."

Blaine chuckled, the sound warm like a soft blanket. "I promise. I'll be at your locker half an hour before classes, coffee in hand."

Kurt breathed out, more loose and relaxed already. "Actually, that only makes you sound _more_ like a dream."

"Get some sleep, Kurt. It's not a dream, I'll be there. I love you."

"I love you too, dream boy." 

 

They hadn't planned how they would come out, not yet. Now that Kurt knew they could reveal their marks whenever they chose, it lost the desperate urgency he had felt before. It was their decision, theirs to plan and enjoy, and Blaine had already said that he would be glad to do it any way Kurt wished – he was just happy not to hide how lucky they were anymore.

So Kurt decided to take his time, no matter how excited he felt at the prospect. A few days more wouldn't change anything, and he wanted the moment to be just right – nothing too flashy or dramatic, but noticeable enough. Merely telling someone and waiting for the rumor mill to pick it up wouldn't do. Kurt wanted strategy.

The inspiration came on Monday, after Mr. Schue ordered half of the Glee club into mandatory booty camp to improve their dancing skills. As offended as Kurt felt by the implication that his dance moves weren't good enough, he couldn't help but bounce a little. He'd have to plan out the details once he got home, but he had an idea and it was _perfect_.

***

Blaine survived the few days it took for his transfer to be official, buzzing with excitement and anticipation. Not revealing his surprise to Kurt before the time came was possibly one of the most difficult acting exercises he'd ever done, and there were a few times when he was sure he would burst with it. But the look of stunned disbelief on Kurt's face was worth every minute of holding back, and the surprise performance felt like an amazing beginning to the new chapter in Blaine's high school education. And now they were at school together again, and Blaine still couldn't believe it. He kept glancing at Kurt in the choir room, searching him out in the hallways during every break, full to the brim with warm, happy feelings, so much so that he forgot to be anxious at all.

Well... okay, there were a few tiny dark clouds in the perfect sky of his post-transfer life. Rachel insinuating that Blaine was a Warblers spy. Finn getting sulky and snappy after Blaine's – perhaps a tad too excited – welcome speech. Some of the others eyeing him with confused distrust. Overall, he was not met with as much enthusiasm as he'd imagined. It turned out getting along great with a group of people in casual circumstances didn't automatically mean being greeted with open arms when you decided to join them permanently.

But that was fine. Blaine would just have to prove himself as a valuable addition to New Directions. Which shouldn't be a problem, he was a master of proving himself and fitting expectations. It was only a matter of time until everything was smooth and friendly again.

And all that paled in the light of having his soulmate by his side, anyway. Especially now that they were about to officially reveal their marks. Blaine didn't know all the details – Kurt only told him it would be tomorrow – but he could barely contain his excitement and curiosity. Knowing Kurt, it would be big. 

 

Blaine spent the whole day on pins and needles, waiting for _that moment_. Kurt had only smiled mysteriously and told him to be patient when he had asked, so Blaine's heart sped up every time Kurt went over to talk to somebody during the day. He almost grabbed Kurt's hand when he saw Jacob coming towards them with his cameraman, but they passed without a word, trailing after one of the Cheerios.

Later, in Glee, when Kurt put his hand up, Blaine thought he would jump out of his skin. This had to be it, it made perfect sense to announce it here first, among friends. Except... Kurt only told everyone that he'd decided he would be running for senior class president. Which was the first time Blaine heard about it, and he would definitely have to ask because hey, shouldn't he be the first to know? But that was not the point.

The point was, the day was almost over and still no one knew.

He caught up with Kurt as they were leaving the choir room after practice.

"Kurt–"

"Shh, trust me."

"But–"

"I promise, soon." Kurt smiled mischievously and quickly squeezed Blaine's hand in the empty corridor.

They were walking towards the auditorium for the first booty camp and Blaine sulked a little as he trailed after his boyfriend. He knew it was his fault they'd even waited so long, but now that they didn't have to hide anymore, he couldn't wait to look everyone in the eye and proudly say: _this is my soulmate_.

With only the relative privacy of the backstage serving as changing rooms, everyone scattered between corners and curtained-off nooks to change into exercise clothes. Blaine found his own empty spot and quickly pulled on his sweatpants and t-shirt before going  to find Kurt.

He was on the stage already, talking with Mike, and Blaine joined them to wait for everyone else. There was only a handful of people besides them – Finn, Puck, Mercedes, Sugar and Quinn – but the girls seemed to need forever to get ready, so Blaine took the opportunity to ogle Kurt a little. It wasn't that often that he got to see his boyfriend so casual, after all. Black, form-fitting yoga pants paired with a zipped-up black-and-white hoodie made Kurt look younger somehow, less guarded, and at the same time accentuated certain areas of his body in a way that made Blaine's mouth water and his mind frantically calculate how much time alone they could get afterwards before Kurt's dad came from the garage.

Well, at this rate they wouldn't leave here until dinnertime.

Finally, everyone was accounted for and ready (if not particularly happy to be here), and Mr. Schue clapped his hands to get their attention.

"Okay, so now that you've all decided to grace us with your presence at last, let's start. And just so you know, starting tomorrow, every five minutes of delay adds half an hour to the class. Warm up."

Blaine rolled his eyes as soon as the teacher turned his back. Frankly, he'd never had much heart or respect for Mr. Schue – just knowing that the man had been at least partially aware of Kurt's bullying problem last year and did nothing to effectively stop it was enough for Blaine to dislike him because, damn it, he was an _adult_ and a _teacher_. Mr. Schue's attitude since Blaine had joined the New Directions did nothing to warm him towards the man, and neither did his first Spanish lesson on Friday. Blaine wasn't by any means a master of the language, but after a year at Dalton he was proficient enough to wince every other time Mr. Schue said something in class or read an excerpt from their textbook.

Beside him, movement caught Blaine's attention – Kurt was quickly unzipping his hoodie before skipping to the nearest chair to put it away. It was warm in the auditorium.

But then Kurt turned around and returned to his place, light on his feet and focused on Mike up front, already explaining the warm-up sequence, and Blaine – gasped.

He wasn't the only one to notice. Mercedes' shrill squeal got everyone's attention instantly.

" _Kurt Hummel_! Is that what I think it is?"

Kurt looked down where her finger was pointing, the mark perfectly displayed thanks to the wide neck of his striped tank top, and he shrugged, grinning just a little.

"Oh. Yeah, of course it is."

The next few minutes were a little bit of a pandemonium – most everyone gathered around Kurt to have a look, then turning to Blaine, asking, exclaiming, congratulating. He had to lift his t-shirt to show his own mark, which he did gladly, excited, giddy, a little drunk on the moment finally being here and on Kurt's proud smile. In the happy chaos, it took him a while to notice Finn stalking away with a stormy expression, just before Mr. Schue's sharp voice cut through the noise.

"Do I need to remind you all that the later we start, the longer you're going to be here? Back to positions, everyone. And Kurt, put on something more covering."

Kurt looked at Mr. Schue defiantly. "Why? Do I show too much _cleavage_?"

"You're distracting the others." The teacher's jaw was clenched, the vein in his neck pulsing.

Kurt arched his eyebrow. "Really. I can almost see Sugar's nipples from here, but _I'm_ distracting." Sugar grinned and jiggled her breasts at them. Puck whistled. Mr. Schue looked like he wanted to yell at them, but eventually turned his back and growled.

"On three."

The practice was strenuous to the point of cruelty. By the end of it every single one of them was streaming with sweat, their legs unstable and muscles screaming. Mercedes had cried and refused to go on halfway through it. Finn had kicked a note-stand and stormed out not much later, after failing to recreate a complicated dance routine yet again. Mr. Schue called them lazy more than once.

Blaine had another problem though – one that earned him a more permanent place in the booty camp though he'd initially came as a volunteer. His blunders and utter distractedness ruined every favorable impression Mr. Schue and Mike had had about his skills as a dancer, but Blaine really couldn't help it. He couldn't control his reactions no matter how he tried. Because it turned out that seeing Kurt's mark displayed like that in public was a _huge_ thing for Blaine.

Not just a turn-on, either. Every time he saw it, so clear against Kurt's pale skin, so out there, _his_ , his name, a jolt of something raw and primal ran through Blaine's body, turning his thoughts into a jumble of incoherent, animalistic growls. All through the practice he'd had to fight with the need to get closer to Kurt, into his personal space, to touch him, to _mark_ him and show everyone that this gorgeous, amazing boy was _Blaine's_.

As soon as they were backstage, he couldn't hold back any longer. Grabbing Kurt's hand, he pulled him into a secluded nook behind a curtain and into a deep, desperate kiss before Kurt could say a word. He lingered on Kurt's lips only for a moment, though, before kissing and nipping down the salty slope of his neck and over, finally, to the mark. Blaine felt a little wild with it, the skin seemed electric under his lips and it was still not enough, he needed more, needed everyone to _see–_

"Blaine." It was a half-moan from Kurt's mouth and Blaine grazed the hard ridge of his collarbone, sucked at the smooth skin. " _Blaine_!"

Kurt gently pushed him away and Blaine swayed a little, startled out of his trance-like state. Before his eyes, the skin over and around his name was reddened from his ministrations. Kurt was staring at him, clearly surprised.

"What was this?"

"I... I don't know, I just – you're _mine_."

"Of course I am, but why the sudden need to devour me, especially when I'm all sweaty and gross?"

Blaine shrugged. He could feel his cheek start to burn with more than exertion. "I don't know, I just... seeing your mark in public apparently makes me go crazy possessive."

Kurt arched his eyebrow. "Oh. _Interesting_." He looked at Blaine for a moment, a look of calculation on his face. "Hm, how about we go to my house and take a quick shower, together if there's no one there yet, and then you can commence marking me however you want as long as it's not in visible places? I still have plans for tomorrow that involve showing off your name."

Blaine just growled and rushed to get his bag, ready to go.

***

Kurt checked his reflection in the mirror before getting out of his car the next morning. Everything seemed to be in perfect order – his hair was flawless, the single tiny hickey left accidentally on his neck last night well covered up, and the zippers on the shoulders of his sweater opened just enough to give everyone a peek of the black undershirt – and the perfect view of his mark. Satisfied, Kurt grabbed his bag and strutted towards the school, where Blaine was undoubtedly waiting by his locker already.

Oh, it was going to be an great day. Not even Finn's silent sulkiness was going to spoil it.

Rachel intercepted him as soon as he walked through the door, pulling him to the side despite his protests and immediately pushing into his personal space, reaching out to touch his collarbone.

"So it's true then."

He batted her hand away with a disbelieving frown. There was only one person allowed to touch.

She didn't look discouraged, just hurt. "I couldn't believe it when Mercedes called me last night, I thought I'd be the first to know if it happened, but apparently you've had it for _months_ and you never said a word? How could you, Kurt? We had _plans_ , and this changes _everything_ , will you even go to New York now? Oh god, I need a back-up plan, I have to find a new roommate, you should have told me months ago, Kurt!"

Kurt ground his teeth so hard it hurt in an effort not to lash out.

"Believe it or not, Rachel, but not everything is about you. There was a reason no one knew until now."

"Mike knew!" She snapped.

"Yes, from Tina, who knew because she guessed. And my parents. And that was it. And I don't have to apologize to you for how I lead my life." He turned to walk away, his buoyant mood somewhat ruined.

"But I'm your best friend!" She called out behind him. He didn't stop. He wasn't even sure if it was still true. 

 

Just as Kurt thought, the news had already spread through the school and there were whispers and curious glances around him as he walked to his locker. Blaine's smile was dazzling, clearly visible from afar, but as Kurt came closer, it changed into something less innocent and more heated. Blaine's eyes were dark and intent by the time Kurt reached him, and Blaine's hand rose immediately to smooth a welcome over Kurt's exposed mark.

"Please tell me you know of a private place where we can disappear right now."

Kurt laughed softly. "Again? I thought it was just a reaction to the first time I showed off the mark."

Blaine shook his head and clutched the strap of his bag with both hands in a clear attempt to keep them away from Kurt. "I don't think so. It's like... I have a physical reaction to seeing it uncovered where other people can look at it. Can I press you against the lockers and ravish you, so that they all know you're _mine_?"

Kurt's breath quickened a little, but he kept his careful distance. It was McKinley. It wouldn't end well. "I think the fact that I'm basically signed as yours and everyone can see it will have to suffice for now, sorry."

Blaine groaned quietly, but nodded. "I know. But, for the record, I would." 

 

They didn't have a chance to see more than a glimpse of each other during the next few hours, but by lunchtime, Kart had heard every possible version of "What does it feel like?", "When/How did it appear?", "Is the sex better now?" and "So gays can be soulmates too?" from friends and strangers alike. Reports from Tina revealed that Blaine had fared similarly. In general, most of the comments and reactions were nice and curious, no hostility. Even people he'd never spoken to smiled at him after spotting his mark.

Well, it was one more thing that made him stick out – even with more people sporting new marks after the summer, there were only three other matched couples at McKinley that he knew of. Kurt wondered how it would affect his chances in the elections.

Blaine was already waiting for him when Kurt went out of his last class before lunch, and Kurt didn't miss his barely-aborted lean in for a kiss. Suddenly emboldened, he did something he'd wanted to do from the moment Blaine transferred: he took his boyfriend's hand, right in the crowded hallway, to walk with him like all the other couples did. Such a simple thing, and yet, for them, so very special.

There were always going to be people who considered their relationship wrong or unnatural. And maybe even the marks wouldn't convince them otherwise, no matter how many more scientists admitted that the phenomenon did look like some sort of "natural selection of the most optimal partners". But even those few who looked at them with new eyes today were an improvement, a step forward in acceptance. And Kurt was done hiding, refraining from every tiny gesture than might be considered wrong by those who didn't like what they were. Sure, flaunting their affection in public was still a risky idea, considering where they lived, but he would hold hands with his boyfriend – his _soulmate_ – if he wanted to, dammit. He would sit with him and touch his shoulder, and smile at him, real and intimate, instead of constantly being on lookout. And if he became the senior class president, he would do all that he could to make this school a safer place. For them, for others that were different, for everyone.

_Courage_ , that was it. Starting here, now.

They were greeted with a few whistles and whoops when they got to the table occupied by the Glee members in the cafeteria, their hands swinging between them. Lunch was a joyous affair today, with jokes and teasing, and a guessing game about who in their little group would be the next person marked, and when, and with what name. Would there be more matched couples? With Sam and Lauren gone, and Rachel and Finn broken up, the only unmarked couple left (though they would deny _being_ a couple, no matter what everyone knew) were Santana and Brittany.

The relaxed mood around the table shattered when Finn dropped his hamburger onto the tray with a scowl.

"Seriously, can't we talk about anything else? Soulmates and soulmates, it's like this is the only topic now."

Kurt arched his eyebrows. Finn had been in a bad mood since booty camp yesterday, avoiding him all evening and leaving early in the morning, but this was the first time he actually spoke about it.

"What's your problem, Finn?"

The full force of Finn's frown was now directed at Kurt and, by extension, Blaine sitting by his side.

"My _problem_ is that apparently my own brother has had one of those stupid marks for over half a year and didn't even tell me."

"Finn, we kept it a secret because my parents–" Blaine was trying to placate him with his calm, rational voice, but Kurt already knew it would be no use. He was right.

"I'm not asking you, Blaine. I'm talking to my brother here, if you don't mind."

Kurt bristled. "Finn, I don't see why you're so angry about it, but whatever the reason–"

"Don't _Finn_ me, Kurt. Sure I'm angry. Why shouldn't I be? First, I'm not a good enough boyfriend because I don't have the right _name_. Then _your_ boyfriend transfers and immediately tries to take control and do things his way, like we're his precious Warblers–"

Next to Kurt, Blaine frowned. "What? I never–"

"– and now I learn I'm not even trustworthy enough to be told important things by my own family. So yeah, sorry, I'm a little bit annoyed." Kurt opened his mouth to say something, explain somehow, but Finn held up his hands. "No, Kurt, save it. I don't want to hear it." He grabbed his bag and stormed out, leaving his unfinished food.

There was uncomfortable silence around the table in the wake of Finn's exit. Santana was the first to recover.

"Well, that was awkward. I for one am really glad Prince Charming here joined us. More cute meat to ogle, and he sure can sing. His moves are much better than Franketeen's, too."

Somehow, no one felt in the mood to joke anymore. The rest of the meal passed in uncomfortable silence. 

 

"I'm sorry about Finn. I'm sure he'll come around."

They were sitting in Lima Bean that afternoon, barely able to move after another exhausting round of booty camp. Finn had kept away from them all day after his earlier outburst, still clearly simmering, and Kurt couldn't stop thinking about his words, feeling increasingly guilty. Maybe they should have handled it differently, should have told him. Then again, Finn couldn't keep a secret if he tried.

Blaine shrugged, and winced when the move jostled his strained muscles. "It's okay. I just didn't realize I was doing anything wrong."

"You aren't. Finn's irrational, I don't know what bit him. No, okay, I do know, he's still not over Rachel, but it's not an excuse. Do you want me to talk to him?"

Blaine shook his head and swallowed some coffee. "No. I will do it myself in a few days if he's still mad. Anyway, I wanted to ask – Kurt, what's with the presidential stuff?"

Kurt blushed. "Oh, I've been meaning to talk to you about it, actually. I wanted to ask if you'd do me the honor of being my campaign manager. You could help me with phrasing my campaign, I would even let you design the posters, including taking the pictures if you wanted."

Blaine smiled. "Of course, I'll be glad to help, but I mean, what happened to make you run? I didn't even know you were interested in the school political stage."

"I didn't know either, to be honest." Kurt sighed. He couldn't talk about this without touching another subject that he'd hoped to postpone. Oh well. "I just. I've been thinking about college. I mean, I should get into Ohio State easily, but then next year when I apply to Julliard to go to New York with you? I don't have that many achievements, no extracurriculars except for Glee, and the competition there will be much harder. So I thought I should do what I can this year, while I still can. And besides winning Nationals, which I can't guarantee on my own, and starring in a school play, which I still hope to do if it works out this year, the presidency was the only thing I came up with. Plus, I believe I can really do some good for this school with the campaign I have. Let me tell you–"

"Kurt." Blaine said softly, touching his hand to stop his monologue. "Come on, you're not going to Ohio State."

Kurt expected discussion, but this? His jaw dropped a little. "But... I can't go to New York yet, not next year, not without you."

"You can't or you don't want to?"

"I... both? I want to go to New York – you know how much I do, but I don't want to leave you here, I can't–"

Blaine shook his head with a smile that was just this side of sad. "Sure you can. It will be hard, for both of us, but I don't want you to put your life on hold for me. We'll survive, it's only a school year. And there are weekends and holidays and breaks. We'll be fine."

Kurt felt his eyes prickle. God, he _wanted_ New York. But not seeing Blaine every day? "But we're _soulmates_ , we're not supposed to be apart!"

Blaine stroked the top of his hand with his thumb. "Why, because Tina says so? Come on, let _us_ be the ones who decide what we are and aren't supposed to do with our relationship. These are _our_ lives, _our_ decisions. I wish you had talked to me about this, you know. Weren't we supposed to communicate?"

Kurt bit his lip. "I thought it would be easier if I just... decided."

Blaine squeezed his hand. "I know. But I want to be in on such big things that affect both of us. And I don't want you to sacrifice your dreams for me. Apply to Julliard, Kurt. Go and be amazing, and find all the best places to show me when I visit, and then a year later I will join you and we'll rent a tiny apartment together, and we'll make up for all the time apart, and we'll never separate for that long again. Okay?"

The tears were flowing now, but Kurt didn't even care. He had the best boyfriend in the world. "Okay."  


	20. Chapter 20

Campaigning for president was hard work, it turned out. Especially since Brittany had decided to join the race, claiming that the school politics needed more girl power – and, for some reason, unicorns. Her posters were a colorful chaos of glitter and rainbows, and her campaign pretty vague, but she managed to get the feminine part of the school population interested. Winning was going to be much trickier now than just outtalking and outsmarting Rick the Stick.

Kurt had been so busy with the campaign that he didn't have much time to actually think about his college applications. Yes, he'd told Blaine he would go to New York. But saying it and actually taking the first steps were two different things. He needed some time for the decision to settle in his mind and his heart. He needed to spend some time with this thought, a few quiet hours by himself, to feel it, deep within – to see himself in New York without his soulmate, and to be certain that this was what he wanted. That they could do that and survive.

It took him over a week and a sleepless night to get there. But then he was ready.

The next day, after first period, he found Rachel in the choir room, sitting alone like she often did these days. Kurt felt a little awkward, approaching her like this after he'd avoided her for days, unwilling to deal with her attitude. But now that he actually looked at her – really looked – it was clear that she hadn't been too well. She didn't look happy as she sat at the piano, her usual manic determination and endless energy gone, and it suddenly struck Kurt that she must have been pretty lonely. Not many people managed to stand Rachel Berry on a daily basis, let alone get close to her. Without Finn or Kurt, she didn't really have close friends.

Rachel noticed him hovering in the doorway and sent him a ghost of a smile.

"Hi Kurt. What are you doing here? Where's Blaine?"

Kurt walked closer and leaned against the piano. "I left him talking with Santana. She's ridiculously fond of him... well, in her own way at least. I wanted to talk to you alone."

"Why?" She looked surprised. Kurt took a deep breath.

"I'm going to Julliard after all. Or at least applying. The point is... I'm still going to New York. We can still go together, we can live together like we planned, we can–"

Rachel was shaking her head. "I'd love to, Kurt, but...  Julliard doesn't have a musical theater department."

Kurt felt as if the earth tilted under his feet. "Wait, what?"

They've been planning it for so long; it was always going to be Julliard! Now what?

Rachel sighed. "I spoke with Miss Pillsbury. She suggested a different city, but when I told her I wouldn't settle for anything less than New York, she told me about another school. Have you ever heard of NYADA?"

Kurt shook his head.

"It's the New York Academy of the Dramatic Arts, apparently the best school in the country for musical theatre. But it's pretty exclusive, and they only take about twenty students a year." She looked grim. Kurt smiled at her.

"Oh. That's settled then – we just apply there, right? I mean, Julliard, NYADA, no big difference – it was always going to be the best acting school in New York, and we knew it wouldn't be easy."

"Kurt, you don't understand. The competition is going to be _crazy_. I actually went to a mixer they hold for prospective students last week and... Kurt, the people there were _phenomenal_. As good as us – _better_ than us! And they all have credentials – like, _in utero_ credentials. Multiple roles, and not just in school productions, either. We stand no chance with them."

Kurt's heart sank a little, but he just stood up taller, his usual reaction whenever someone told him he couldn't do something or be something he wanted.

"Then we'll have to work harder, make our applications better. Come on, don't tell me you're giving up? There's still time. We'll just have to make sure the musical happens this year for a change, and then we can star in it. And you have plenty of clubs and activities to put on your resume, and I will hopefully have the presidency, and then we're going to win Nationals with the Glee club. We're going to get in, Rachel. Both of us. NYADA, beware – here we come."

Rachel laughed wetly through the tears that were running down her cheeks. She jumped up from the piano bench to pull Kurt into a tight hug.

"Oh I missed you. I'm sorry I was a bad friend before. I'm so happy for you and Blaine, I really am, and I can't wait to be in New York with you. You're right, it was never going to be easy but following your dreams never is. Come on, let's find the best musical we could propose."

***

Blaine was worried. Between Brittany gaining in the presidential polls and the NYADA news, Kurt had been increasingly stressed these last few days, so much so that Blaine could literally feel it radiating from him whenever they were in the same room. He was doing whatever he could to be the supportive, comforting counterbalance in Kurt's life, and most of the time, it worked. But now that West Side Story had been approved and the auditions started tomorrow, Blaine wasn't sure what to do.

He wanted to audition for Tony. It was a dream role for him, and he wanted to at least try to put himself in those shoes, even if it was just for that one moment on stage. But then he'd have to audition against Kurt. He wouldn't be the only one, either. He'd heard two sophomores talking excitedly about trying out for Tony during lunch – not that they posed a serious threat, from what Blaine saw of their acting. But Blaine knew how auditions worked, how subjective cast decisions could be. And if he happened to win the lead – how could he take it from Kurt, when it meant so much for his college application?

No, it was better if he didn't try at all. Or he could just audition for the role of Bernardo. Or Baby John. Or Diesel. Whichever, really, even just Officer Krupke. He would get a lead next year, when he would need as many distractions and time-fillers as possible, anyway, not to mention achievements to add to his own NYADA application.

But even after he'd made his decision, it kept niggling at his mind, like an annoying grain of sand.

 

"You're not trying for Tony?" Kurt asked, surprised, when Blaine told him about his audition plans that afternoon, on the way to their cars after booty camp. Blaine shrugged.

"No. Tony is–" _yours_ , he wanted to say, but it didn't feel right. "I don't want Tony," he said instead.

The way Kurt looked at him – as if he was about to call him out on the lie – made Blaine shuffle his feet uncomfortably and dig in his bag for the car keys that had been in his hand all along. Was he that transparent? Or was it yet another thing their marks were causing now, the inability to lie to each other?

But Kurt just looked away after a moment, straightening the strap of his bag. "Oh. Okay."

They drove to Kurt's house and Kurt steered the conversation to campaign matters as soon as they entered, and everything felt almost like any other afternoon. Almost, because there was barely noticeable tension in the air until Blaine went home that night – unspoken words, a hint of unease.

By the time they met again in the morning, it was gone. Kurt seemed more affectionate than ever all day, holding Blaine's hand whenever they were together and whispering sweet nothings into his ear until Blaine blushed and bit his lip to resist kissing him. So he pushed away the concern that had stayed with him all night, and focused on Kurt's hand in his, and Kurt's excitement about his afternoon audition. He did the right thing – he made Kurt happy, spared him additional stress. It was the right decision.

 

Blaine could barely wait until Kurt got off the stage after his audition before grabbing his hand and pulling him away towards the parking lot. God, Kurt's moves, the flexibility of his sinuous body up on the scaffolding, the play of the muscles in his arms – watching it had driven Blaine crazy, and there was no way he could do what he really, _really_ had to do anywhere at school. They needed privacy.

"Blaine, what–"

He whipped around to look at Kurt, never letting go of his gloved hand. "Please tell me we'll have a moment alone."

Kurt laughed breathlessly. "No one will be home until dinner. So you can slow down and let me take off the gloves at least."

"No! Don't." He swallowed convulsively and spoke softer. "Please don't take them off. Don't change anything." The gloves, the way Kurt's hands moved when he twirled the sais... Blaine could suddenly think of a dozen other uses for those dexterous fingers.

Kurt arched his eyebrows with a knowing smirk. "Ooh. You like my outfit?"

"I like _you_. In this outfit, too, yes."

Kurt grinned and tugged at Blaine's hand. "Better hurry then, if we need that time."

 

Kurt barely made three steps towards the bed when Blaine stopped him with an arm wound around his waist, a hand splayed wide over Kurt's stomach pressing him back into Blaine's body. Kurt hummed softly when he felt Blaine's erection against his ass.

"Mm. Eager."

Blaine kissed his way roughly down the side of Kurt's neck to the crook of his shoulder, hot and still sweaty.

"I've been hard since the beginning of your performance." He sucked on the thin skin, causing Kurt's hips to stutter back. Kurt's voice was higher already.

"Blaine... bed, please. Come on."

"No. Stay like this, don't move." And with that, Blaine did what he'd been craving from the moment Kurt first turned his back during his performance, showing the red strings tied up the high waist of Kurt's pants.

He slid down to his knees, his body still flush with Kurt's back, his hands smoothing down Kurt's chest, his stomach, his thighs. And then he took the end of one of the strings in his teeth – and pulled.

Kurt gasped. "Oh my god, what are you–"

The rest of his question was lost in a quiet moan as Blaine finished loosening the ties. He hooked his thumbs in the waistband over Kurt's hips, tugging lightly until the pants dropped to the floor – a nice benefit of them being so loose this time. And then Kurt stood there in his shirt and black briefs clinging to the delicious curves of his ass. The perspective was perfect – Kurt's legs seemed even longer, his shapely behind right at eye level – and Blaine wondered why he'd never thought about doing this before.

He couldn't resist kissing his way up the sensitive back of Kurt's knee to his thigh and higher, until he was sucking and nipping at the swell of Kurt's ass along the edge of his briefs, his fingers dipping shallowly under the soft cotton. Kurt shivered when Blaine reached around him to find his cock, already hard and straining in the confines of his underwear. Blaine took a moment to enjoy the whisper of the fabric under his stroking hand, the warmth of it under his lips where Kurt's muscles shifted and pressed involuntarily into his touch.

By the time Blaine pulled the briefs down, there was a wet spot forming on the front and Kurt was letting out soft, high little moans. His knees buckled when Blaine's hand finally encircled the shaft of his cock, Blaine's teeth gently grazing the skin of his ass cheek.

"Blaine–"

Blaine hummed against the supple skin, his hand stroking slowly. "Mm. Do you have any idea what you did to me during this performance? You were gorgeous out there, with the scaffolding and the sais, and your voice, god, you'll be perfect as Tony."

Kurt gasped out a surprised laugh. "Yeah?"

"Definitely." Blaine kissed his way closer to the crack of Kurt's ass and traced the tip of his tongue, feather-light, up the divide.

Kurt whimpered. "What are you doing?"

Blaine pulled away, tracing with his fingers instead. "Do you want me to stop?"

"No." It was barely more than a whisper.

Blaine kissed him again, a teasing dance of his tongue not an inch from the cleft. "I just... the way you moved, you're so flexible, Kurt, and your hips–" He squeezed his free hand over the hard bone of Kurt's left hip. "Fuck, I can't stop thinking about other situations now. Other times where you would move like this." His right hand sped up a little and Kurt moaned loudly, his gloved hands tangling in his own hair for lack of purchase.

"Tell me." Kurt panted out.

"Like... your hips moving like that when... when you're in me."

Kurt whimpered, his hips snapping forward to fuck faster into Blaine's fist, and in a moment of boldness, Blaine sucked two fingers into his mouth, barely resisting rubbing his aching erection against Kurt's calf. He slipped his slick fingers down the crack of Kurt's ass until his fingertip slid over the tight bud of Kurt's hole.

They'd never done this before, not yet. Blaine couldn't hold in a moan. "Or... or you riding me, my cock so deep in you, just... there." He rubbed tiny, feverish circles around the opening.

He hoped it wasn't too much, that Kurt wouldn't jerk away. What he never expected was Kurt actually pressing against his hand until Blaine's slick fingertip was breaching him, just a little. Then a little more, to the first knuckle, and then Kurt was just fucking himself faster and faster between Blaine's grip and his finger dipping shallowly into Kurt's hole and holy shit, Blaine could come just from the sounds Kurt made and the hot squeeze of his muscles. His fingertip was suddenly the most sensitive part of his body.

Kurt was close, his movements increasingly erratic, his fingers still tugging at his own hair.

"I want to." He gasped. "Fuck, Blaine, I do. Soon."

Blaine had to bite down on the firm flesh of Kurt's ass, the rush of the promise almost too much to bear. Which didn't really help, considering that Kurt came with a cut off cry a few seconds later, the wave of his release and the clench of his hole pulling Blaine along like a tide.

 

Blaine still felt like he was floating a few feet above ground the next day in school. Nothing had changed, not really, and yet it seemed like a huge step had been taken, one that made the air between him and Kurt charged and electric, and kept Blaine in the state of lingering arousal all day because... _soon_.

He literally bounced to the auditorium that afternoon and had to firmly tell himself a few times that _Something Coming_ was _not_ a song about his sex life before he could come up on stage and keep a straight face instead of breaking out into an insane grin. Kurt wasn't in the audience yet – he had to urgently talk to Rachel, although Blaine had no idea why discussing _Romeo and Juliet_ couldn't wait until tomorrow – and Blaine felt a little pang of disappointment, but he got over it quickly. He wasn't here to serenade Kurt, after all.

The audition went smoothly. Being on stage was a feeling incomparable to anything else for Blaine, and being the only one there this time, no background singers or dancers, just the orchestra, was a delicious kind of thrill. He'd almost forgotten how special it felt after his year with the Warblers, where he'd always been a part of the team. Adrenaline bubbled happily in his veins, he felt _alive_ , like he was one with the song, his body and voice in perfect harmony, his focus undivided. Finishing the performance felt like resurfacing after a long deep dive, the ovation he received like a breath of sweet fresh air. Oh, he was _so_ going to get Bernardo.

He was almost off the stage when Artie's voice stopped him.

"Wait. Would you mind reading for Tony?"

There was just a split second of hesitation, Blaine's heart jumping up before his brain had time to engage, but it was gone in a flash. He was shaking his head already when the hurt registered, bright and deep in his mind. Disappointment. Betrayal.

Kurt was here.

"I'm sorry, but no. I'm not interested in the role of Tony." Blaine couldn't see their faces, blinded with the bright stage lights, but he heard the surprised murmurs.

Then Kurt's voice cut loud and clear through the acoustics of the room. "Blaine, it's okay. Do it."

The voice came from the side, maybe one of the balconies, and again he couldn't see Kurt's face, but the flash of emotions radiating from him was gone now. Still, Blaine shook his head. "Kurt–"

"Read for Tony. It's fine." That edge of finality was something Blaine knew very well and had long learned not to argue with. Still hesitant, he looked at the trio in front of him.

"I... okay, I guess I could try."

It didn't take much to shake off the initial discomfort and slip seamlessly into the role. But when he finished fifteen minutes later, Kurt was gone. He wasn't in any of the balconies or backstage, or outside the auditorium. By the time Blaine got out into the parking lot, he already knew Kurt's car wouldn't be there.

 

"I won't take the role if they offer." Blaine said as soon as the door opened.

Kurt just shook his head and moved aside to let him in. His face was calm, but there was just a hint of red in his eyes that told Blaine everything.

"Can we not talk about it today?" Kurt asked quietly.

"But I don't have to, really–"

"Please. Not today."

Blaine nodded, resigned. "Okay. Do you want to watch a movie?"

 

They still didn't talk about the play the next day at school. Kurt was in a somber mood, a little absent from the moment they met by his locker in the morning, and then Brittany's surprise performance during lunch electrified the school and shattered the rest of Kurt's composure. They spent the rest of the day watching the poll results shift and discussing countermeasures that could still be taken, and by the time Blaine came home that night, his heart ached. This was really getting to Kurt.

He fell asleep trying to think of ways to comfort his boyfriend and improve his mood – ways that didn't necessarily include sex.

So when Kurt found him on the staircase the next morning, with a smile and a bouquet of roses in his hand, it felt as if he'd stepped in from another story entirely. And when his smile didn't falter, his eyes warm as he told Blaine what he'd learned from his mole in the casting office, Blaine didn't really know what to say. Before he could decide between blushing at the compliments (and he hadn't thought Kurt had stayed long enough to see that he "killed his audition") and ensuring him that he wasn't going to take the role anyway (which seemed kind of rude after Kurt's words), Kurt did one more completely unexpected thing.

He kissed him.

Right in the middle of the staircase, with people milling around and half the school on the courtyard below, Kurt pulled him close and pressed a soft, chaste kiss to Blaine's lips. And then he took Blaine's free hand and led him down to one of the unoccupied benches in a quiet corner of the courtyard.

It was only when they were seated that Blaine spoke.

"Thank you. But you know I'm not going to take this role, even if they do give it to me. It's yours; I can have a lead next year."

Kurt shook his head. "No, you're going to take it. I don't want you to hold back because of me. If we're both going to be performers, it's inevitable we will be competitors sometimes. We'll have to learn to navigate it, and this is as good a moment as any. Better, even, while we're still in high school."

"But your NYADA application–" Blaine frowned.

"I'll have to manage without it. Don't worry. Besides, they won't take me as Tony anyway. I'm..." Kurt's voice broke minutely and he cleared his throat. "Apparently I'm too much of a lady."

Blaine gasped. "You're not!"

Kurt shrugged, looking at his shoes. "It was a quote. I overheard them talking before your audition. I just don't pass well enough. I ‘don't excite the lady parts’, as they phrased it." He forced out a humorless laugh, and Blaine felt anger spike high and hot.

"God, how can they even say something like that?"

Kurt looked at him with a shadow of a smile and took his hand. "It's alright. I'm mostly used to people saying those things. It's just that usually they're not teachers, you know? So it got to me a little. But I'm fine now. I want you to take this role and be awesome, okay?"

With such sincerity in Kurt's eyes, all Blaine could do was intertwine their fingers and nod.

***

Kurt was sure his bad luck must be over now. Between the Julliard fiasco, Brittany as a surprise opponent and the Tony audition, these last few weeks were rough and left him with a painful lack of control over his own endeavors. But it should be better now. It was his senior year, after all, and it was supposed to be magic, with Blaine here at McKinley and everything. Life was bound to give him a break now.

Except life clearly hadn't gotten the memo.

During the next week Brit kept gaining in the polls no matter how hard Kurt worked on getting his anti-bullying message out to people. The funding for the musical was cut, forcing him to convince his father to help them out – with some unexpected consequences for his family when the blowup with Coach Sue somehow led to his dad deciding to run for Congress.

But the hardest hit came from a completely unexpected direction: Rachel, panicked after her "Maria-off" with Mercedes, decided to join the presidential race. No matter that she didn't have anything interesting to offer the school if she won, or that she didn't really need this particular point in her application, or even that she knew how much Kurt _did_ need it, in comparison.

It was the last straw, the final blow in a friendship that had already been so challenged lately, and it hurt. It really did.

"Rachel, in ten years when you look back at this time, you're not gonna be thinking about the clubs you belonged to or the roles you had. You'll be thinking about the friends you had and the ones you just tossed aside."

He left her standing by the lockers alone, and didn't look back once.

He'd have to find another roommate in New York, after all.

The cast list went up on Friday. Blaine got Tony. Maria was double-casted between Rachel and Mercedes.

Kurt got Officer Krupke.

He hugged his boyfriend and tried his very, very best not to let the disappointment show on his face.

***

Blaine got up the stairs and looked around, breathing in the smell of old wood and floor polish. It felt like home – like the place you left at some point and only visited on holidays and vacations, bringing back fond memories. He smiled and followed the well-known path to the senior commons, where the Warblers would be practicing right now. The wad of West Side Story tickets were stuffed in his pocket.

He didn't regret leaving Dalton. He was adapting well in his new school despite his initial worries, his relationship with Kurt was solid, going even further than ever, and he'd just gotten the lead in the school musical.

Life was really damn good.


	21. Chapter 21

Returning to Dalton, even as a guest – especially just as a guest – felt weird.

Blaine had never really said goodbye to the school or his friends. When he was here last with his mom to proceed with the transfer formalities, the Warblers hadn’t started rehearsals yet. He’d only managed to scratch a quick note for his friends to explain his decision, and gave it to Jeff, the first Warbler he saw in the crowded corridor on his way out to the car.

He’d been in contact with a few of them since then, mostly just exchanging Facebook messages and some texts. It was hard to properly judge the mood of the group and opinions about his unexpected disappearance though, and it made him a little nervous now.

He’d been their leader, after all. Someone they’d relied upon. Did they think he betrayed them, leaving like that?

The rehearsal was already in full swing when he got to the senior commons, the clear harmonies of _Uptown Girl_ carrying through the corridor, and Blaine leaned against the open door and smiled, the tension dissolving. No matter what, this room and this group of boys in navy blazers would always be an important part of his past. 

 

“How did it go?” Kurt smiled at him as he opened the door to let Blaine in later that afternoon. “I was just starting to wonder if they chained you to one of the sofas to make you stay with them.”

Blaine grinned. “No. Although Trent did pretty much beg me to come back.”

“He’s always had a major crush on you.” Kurt chuckled fondly and kissed Blaine’s lips before taking his hand to lead him up to his room. “So what took you so long? I was hoping we would have some time alone before my dad came home.”

“Well, they sort of pulled me into doing a song with them.” Blaine chucked self-consciously. “And then there was this new guy there, Sebastian. He wants to take my place as the new leader, I think. He was asking for advice so we had coffee and talked for a while.”

Kurt looked at him closely. “You seem anxious.”

Blaine sat on the very edge of Kurt’s bed, blushing. “He may have been… flirting with me,” he admitted.

Truth be told, there was no _may_ in there. Sebastian Smythe had spent the better part of an hour shamelessly hitting on Blaine, slipping in smooth compliments between legitimate questions. He was definitely confident, that was certain. Cocky, even. Blaine had kept up the polite smile even as the more direct of Sebastian’s comments had made him blush. Being pursued like this did give him a bit of a rush, he had to admit.

“Well, as long as he knows that you’re taken.“ Kurt laughed lightly.

Blaine nodded, “Of course.” He did tell Sebastian that his heart was at McKinley now, and tickled by the compliments or not, Blaine knew where his place and his future was: here with Kurt. “Now what were you saying about your dad coming home?” 

 

"Look, Sebastian, I have a boyfriend," Blaine said with a smile. It came out as apologetic even though he knew it wasn’t something to apologize for. Clearly Sebastian hadn’t understood what he meant yesterday.

"It doesn't bother me if it doesn't bother you."

Oh. Or he just didn’t care.

 Blaine fumbled under the gaze that felt as if the boy was undressing him with his eyes.

"No. I mean... I really care about him."

Sebastian’s smile didn’t falter. Nor did his wandering eyes. "He doesn't need to know."

"He's my soulmate," Blaine said firmly, eager to finish this conversation. It was really making him uncomfortable now. This wasn’t what he imagined when he’d agreed to meet Sebastian here.

Sebastian rolled his eyes. "Oh please."

"No, I mean, really." Scrambling back in his chair, Blaine pulled the hem of his shirt out of his pants. It was all out in the open now, he was allowed to show off his mark, and it always felt exciting – but right now he couldn't help a bit of guilt trickling in at showing it to this guy, considering the circumstances.

Sebastian looked and whistled. "Nice abs. So. One of _those_ couples?"

"Yes." Blaine gloated a little like he did every time he revealed his connection with Kurt to anyone new. He couldn't help it, the lack of secrecy was still so fresh and wonderful.

But Sebastian didn't look particularly impressed. "I don't get it. How do you even know these things mean you're _soulmates_?” The tone he used made the word sound like a mockery. “Who believes in such things? The research is inconclusive as far as I heard, and no one has confirmed anything. So it could be any number of things. What's the point of tying yourself to one person because of some random skin markings?"

Blaine shook his head, looking at him earnestly. "No, I _know_. When you have it, when you're lucky enough for the other person to have yours... you just _know_."

"Know what?" A new voice sounded behind Blaine's back, forcefully chipper, and he whipped around, not sure if he was more panicked or relieved to see Kurt arrive just now.

“That we’re soulmates, of course!” Blaine grinned at him perhaps a little too wide. “Kurt! We were just talking about you.”

Kurt eyed him warily, then glanced at Sebastian with clear distrust, and Blaine hurried to introduce them.

“Sebastian, this is Kurt. My boyfriend.”

***

Kurt didn’t like Sebastian.

He didn’t like him from the very first moment he laid eyes on him. There he was at _their_ table, shamelessly ogling Blaine with a leering smirk on his stupid meerkat face. It would be easier if he was ugly. But no, he had that cocky charm and a certain grace in his skinny body that was doing nothing for Kurt, but could probably be appreciated by some.

He didn’t even need to focus and scope out Blaine’s emotions to see that it affected him. He didn’t act interested, no, but he seemed somehow smaller, more clingy when Kurt joined them, and it was enough to dislike Sebastian even more, seeing the effect he had on his boyfriend.

And that smirk. That easy confidence that told Kurt Sebastian was used to getting what he wanted. And he very clearly wanted Blaine.

Not that Kurt didn’t trust Blaine – not at all. It was more a case of not trusting his own appeal. There were days, weeks even, when Kurt could see himself the way he suspected Blaine saw him – as someone interesting and desirable. And then there were moments when he looked in the mirror and only saw flaws. Despite months of being with Blaine, despite the marks and their obvious effects, somewhere underneath the easy togetherness and the confidence, there was still the boy who had wondered, not that long ago, if he would ever be good enough for someone. It was all too easy to make those doubts resurface and flare, and Sebastian managed to bring this side of Kurt to light without even trying.

The thing was, Sebastian was everything Kurt wasn’t. And Blaine, Kurt knew, had never been pursued openly like that. Kurt had no doubt that Blaine loved him. But he’d never known anything else, another boy, another relationship. What if he felt like he was missing something? What if he wanted to try what he’d never had?

Sebastian felt like an immediate threat, and his offer of a gay bar adventure sounded like a clear challenge that Kurt couldn’t have _not_ taken. Despite Blaine’s polite refusal, he jumped on the wagon without much thought.

Only now, in the pounding, unfamiliar semi-darkness of the club, he realized how out of his element he was. They were very much on Sebastian’s turf now. Seeing the ease with which Sebastian acted here – getting the fake IDs for them, ordering alcohol, chatting with the barman and the regulars, navigating the sparse crowd – made Kurt feel like the small town boy that he was and not at all like the gay bar superstar that he wanted to be for Blaine. And returning from the restroom and seeing that Sebastian had used his momentary absence to sweep Blaine right to the dance floor was just another stab to his confidence. What was he supposed to do? Go join them? Pull Blaine away like a three year old throwing a tantrum, stomping his feet and yelling “Mine”? Even though he honestly did feel like doing just that, it would be ridiculous. Blaine was his own person, and if he had fun dancing with Sebastian… who was Kurt to deny him that?

_You know, just his soulmate_ , some small, possessive part of his brain insisted.

_Yes, but not his owner_ , the rational part retorted.

Between the two, he was stuck at the bar with his Shirley Temple and his jealousy burning bitter in his throat.

What helped, surprisingly, was Dave Karofsky. Kurt hadn’t seen him since June. He’d heard rumors that Dave had changed schools to distance himself from the bully image that still trailed behind him at McKinley, so seeing him here, out of the closet just a fraction and on his way to accepting who he was, was a nice surprise.

And remembering to accept himself was exactly what Kurt needed right now. Fuck insecurities. Fuck Sebastian – although, no, let’s not. He came here to try something new and have fun _with Blaine_. And that’s what he would do.

Head held high, his best bitch glare at the ready, Kurt strutted to the dance floor. 

 

“This is the best night of my life. This is the _best. Night._ ”

Blaine was an adorable drunk. Kurt had seen this side of him last year at Rachel’s party, but now that it was directed right at him, Blaine was undenyingly more charming. Even though his breath could light fire. Even though Kurt was still annoyed at him for the way he flirted with Sebastian just as much as he did with Kurt, more and more tipsy as the beer just kept coming. Although at this point, Blaine was in love with the whole world.

Kurt could probably forgive him the flirting. Eventually. After all, it was not entirely his fault that Sebastian enjoyed taking advantage of his inebriation.

Blaine was rambling blissfully as they made their slightly wobbly way to the car, and Kurt couldn’t help but laugh. They would  talk about it tomorrow, after Blaine slept off his inevitable hangover.

“Kiss me.” Blaine’s hands were suddenly tight around his waist.

“Oh, no. No no no, come on. You’re riding in the back. Lay down. Less likely to throw up that way.”

Blaine seemed to acquiesce, but the moment he was in the back seat, Kurt felt a tug and the ground tilted under his feet, and the next thing he knew, he was lying in a mess of sprawled limbs on top of his very drunk boyfriend who was grabbing his ass and whispering hotly into his ear, “I want you, I want you so bad–“.

***

The gay bar was amazing. Kurt had the _best_ ideas. Blaine was so glad they accepted Sebastian’s invitation – the people there were the nicest, and it was so much fun to dance with both Kurt and Sebastian, and _whoa_ who would have thought one beer would make him feel so incredible, like he was floating, like he could do anything, make art, and help people, and kiss his boyfriend right here, out in the open, his hot, hot boyfriend–

In fact, who said they had to stop at kissing? It was dark and they had a car, people had sex in cars all the time. Blaine’s body felt electric, his skin oversensitive everywhere, and he just _wanted_ , he wanted _so much_ , it felt like he was one big throbbing pile of want that nothing but Kurt could fulfill. Kurt’s hands, his mouth, his naked skin – he needed Kurt close, he needed Kurt to want him as much as he wanted Kurt, he _needed_. Hands fumbling, he managed to pull Kurt on top of him and god it was so good already, Kurt’s weight on him, the way his hips wiggled, perfect pressure against Blaine’s already hard cock. Blaine’s mind short-circuited for a moment, _so good_.

And then the pleasant buzz turned into a sudden sharp zap as if he touched a live wire, all the nerves in his body sizzling as he jerked back with a shock.

Kurt was scrambling out of the car. He looked livid, and it only took Blaine’s rapidly sobering brain a few seconds to realize that it was Kurt’s anger that literally pushed him away. Kurt’s face was screwed up with emotion, and he was _yelling_ – for the first time ever he was yelling at Blaine, something about dancing with another guy for half the night, and being too drunk to remember, about never feeling less like being intimate with someone – and Blaine felt _sick_.

What was he doing? What _did_ he do?

Not remembering would be a blessing right now. But he recalled all too clearly his earlier conversation with Sebastian, fun and light and full of innuendo, with Kurt right there, his face like a painfully tight smiling mask.

The dancing that bordered on grinding, and had it just been with Kurt, it would have been okay.

But it wasn’t.

The way he grabbed and pulled at Kurt, trying to get him to agree to have sex in the back seat of the car, in the middle of a seedy gay bar parking lot where anyone could have seen them. Kurt’s protests–

Blaine sprang out of the car, feeling dizzy and unsteady on his legs. It really felt like he was going to be sick. He had to move – away from here, away from Kurt’s anger, if not from _himself_ – so he just started walking. Across the parking lot, into the darkness beyond. Somewhere where he wouldn’t see the betrayal in Kurt’s eyes, even though it felt like the picture was seared onto his retinas.

Kurt’s voice chased him, distressed and breaking. “Blaine! Where are you going?”

He turned just for a moment, eyes resolutely on the ground. “I better just walk home.”

***

Kurt couldn’t just leave Blaine alone, walking along dark empty roads in the middle of the night. He was drunk, and hours from home. No matter how furious Kurt had been with him just a few minutes ago, he couldn’t bear the thought of anything bad happening to him. And frankly, most of his anger evaporated already, chased away by the startled realization in Blaine’s eyes and his tortured expression once he snapped out of his alcohol-induced sex haze.

Still, he was not ready to talk to Blaine yet. And he doubted Blaine was, either.

So he just followed Blaine in his car, driving maddeningly slow about twenty feet behind him as he walked stubbornly towards his house. Fortunately, the traffic at this time of night was nearly non-existent in this part of town, so he only got honked at once.

It took over half an hour before Blaine’s brisk steps slowed down and then he stopped at the side of the empty road, slumped, with his head down. Slowly, Kurt drove over to him. He opened the passenger’s door without a word and waited, his eyes focused on the road ahead.

Blaine finally got in the car, but the drive to his house passed in careful, awkward silence. Kurt did his best to shield himself from the waves of misery rolling off Blaine and into his mark-affected mind. Out of the side of his eye, he could see Blaine glancing at him more than once. He could hear how uneven and stilted his breath was, and was pretty certain Blaine’s cheek was glistening with tears in the console light. But Kurt wasn’t ready to reach out yet.

He hoped Blaine would be fine by himself – his parents were away for the weekend, which might be for the best seeing how wasted he was. In any other circumstances, Kurt would offer Blaine a sleepover – an idea reluctantly okayed by his father – or stayed with him at his house. But not tonight. He couldn’t imagine lying in bed next to Blaine for hours with his emotions still raw and sharp inside. He needed to be away from him for a bit right now.

He would get over it. But right now he was shaking internally too much to handle this conversation. He needed to deal with his thoughts and emotions by himself first, before he could talk about what he felt and why. And while his strongest instinct was to comfort Blaine now, he couldn’t. It would be just empty words at this point.

No. He just had to get Blaine home safely. Other than that, Blaine would have to manage alone tonight.  


	22. Chapter 22

Getting drunk the day before the West Side Story premiere turned out to be one of Blaine’s less-than-stellar ideas. Not that he’d been planning it. One beer really shouldn’t have had such an effect. Even now, hours after he’d woken up with a truly dreadful hangover, his head was still pounding and his mood sour for more reasons than just physical pain.

All around him, there was a flurry of last minute preparations. Artie was visibly nervous as he tried to correct everything and everyone. Rachel rambled a mile a minute at the vanity next to Blaine’s, analyzing their scenes and pointing out where they – meaning: Blaine – needed to improve.

This morning’s dress rehearsal hadn’t been his best work.

Rehearsing with Rachel these last couple of weeks had been challenging at times. It wasn’t that Blaine felt like he had to be at odds with her just because Kurt was, but the truth was, her actions and attitude were hurting his soulmate. It wasn’t something he could just brush aside. They were both professionals though, so on stage they worked together seamlessly, even if Blaine enjoyed the rehearsals with Mercedes much more. Now, however, he snapped.

“Rachel, okay, we’ll be _fine_. Please stop that.”

She looked at him, startled, and then deflated. “I guess you’re right. It’s just that… Tony and Maria were soulmates. And… and you know what it’s like, to meet and love your soulmate, and know you are forever, but I– I don’t, and–“

“You’ll do just fine, Rachel.”

It came out sharper than he intended. He should probably be more reassuring, offer some comfort to her obvious anxiety, but her words touched a raw spot.

He and Kurt hadn’t spoken since Blaine got out of his car last night. All day today he couldn’t meet Kurt’s eyes, and now he was about to go out on stage not even knowing how badly he’d screwed up.

Okay, he knew that he _did_ screw up pretty epically. Flirting with Sebastian, getting drunk, practically assaulting Kurt in the parking lot… he still felt slightly sick just thinking of his behavior last night. But did he destroy their relationship entirely? He was desperate to know, yet dreading the answer.

What if he ruined it all? If Kurt could never forgive him?

What did soulmates do if they weren’t together anymore? How did they stave away separation sickness? Did they meet every day and touch briefly, like a business transaction, just to balance out their chemistry and be able to function? How did they exist next to each other, still able to feel each other’s emotions, still sensitive to each other’s touch and proximity? How did they ever have sex with anyone else without their thoughts slipping back to their soulmates and giving them involuntary phantom orgasms again?

When two people were so entwined and connected, how did they ever separate?

His hand trembling, Blaine applied more blush to his suddenly pale face. The show was starting.

***

Sebastian was in the audience. He sat with the other Warblers, the whole group sticking out in the crowd in their Dalton uniforms, and he looked like he was having a great time – smiling, cheering, clapping. His eyes never once left the stage, his face almost hungry whenever Blaine was on.

Kurt saw him from behind the curtain before he went out onto the stage. Yesterday, it would still have made him stumble.

Today, he couldn’t care less.

He’d had enough time last night to calm down and rationally analyze the situation. All day today, he’d watched Blaine to confirm his conclusions. And the conclusions were simple.

Sebastian didn’t matter unless one of them made him matter: unless Blaine wanted him, unless Kurt let him get under his skin. Otherwise, he was just a guy, just the first, but Kurt was sure not the last, who would take interest in Blaine in the years to come, here or, later, in New York. Their being soulmates wouldn’t change that. What mattered was how they would deal with it. What mattered was Blaine’s response.

Blaine’s response couldn’t be less interested now that he was sober.

Kurt didn’t know if the emphatic connection they shared was getting stronger with time or if he was just getting better at handling it, but today he was able to practically turn it on and off at will, and tune into Blaine’s emotional aura with more precision that ever before. He could read the worry, the regret, the self-blaming. He could see the flash of annoyance when Sebastian waved to him before the show.

When the performance ended, Sebastian stuck around until the audience was almost completely empty. Kurt knew whom he was waiting for. He knew that Blaine knew, too – he’d seen him glancing through the curtains. But Blaine didn’t come out, and eventually Sebastian left, summoned by the rest of his group.

The auditorium was almost empty now, most of the beaming cast and crew had already left for the party at Breadstix, but Kurt stayed behind. He changed and sat in the choir room for a bit, just thinking, making sure there was no more doubt in him. Then he went to find Blaine.

They needed to talk.

He knew where to look. He knew his boyfriend and his coping techniques when he was stressed or anxious. Besides, he only needed to focus to know Blaine was close by, anyway.

Hands in his pockets and serenity in his heart, Kurt walked back to the auditorium.

 

***

Blaine felt him first, before he even saw him – felt his warmth, his smile as surely as if Kurt was standing in front of him. Felt his love, all around him, embracing him like strong, invisible arms. Startled, he stopped mid-step and looked around.

“Kurt?” he asked, feeling silly. He was sure he was alone.

Kurt came from between the curtains.

Blaine’s eyes widened. “How did you do that?”

Kurt cocked an eyebrow, a silent question, and Blaine rushed to clarify. “I thought the empathy only worked with the most intense emotions?”

Kurt’s eyes sparkled with excitement, a smile breaking out on his face. “You felt that? Really? Okay, how about now?” He closed his eyes, looking focused, and Blaine gasped as his thoughts shifted, making room for something new and foreign, though not exactly unfamiliar.

It was nothing like the few times when Kurt’s explosive emotions had resonated through his mind, taking over and blocking his own for a moment. This was gentle, a soft infusion of feelings, separate from his own but not overwhelming. It felt as if Kurt touched Blaine’s mind with his own, leaving behind not thoughts or anything concrete, but a vague sense of what Kurt felt. It was weird. It was breathtaking. But, most importantly, it told him something he really needed to hear.

“I love you too,” he replied to the wordless knowledge that filled him. His eyes were getting wet. “God, Kurt, you’re not mad at me.” It wasn’t even a question. He just knew.

Kurt smiled softly. “Not anymore. I was last night, Sebastian sort of turned me into a jealous mess.”

“Kurt, Sebastian doesn’t mean _anything_ to me,” Blaine said, taking Kurt’s hand and trying to show him, to open his mind to him somehow and make him _see_. He wasn’t sure if he succeeded, but Kurt nodded.

“I know now.”

“And you were right,” Blaine added. “A quickie in the back seat is not what I want for our intimate moments. You deserve so much better than that. I was drunk, I didn’t think and I’m sorry.”

Kurt flashed him a cheeky, lopsided smile. “I’m not saying quickies in the back seat are entirely out of the question. You know, when we’re both sober.” Blaine inhaled sharply and Kurt chuckled, but then his face turned serious. “But I’m sorry too. I wanted to be your gay bar superstar, but try as I might, I’m still just a silly romantic.”

“It’s not silly,” Blaine said, and it only took a light pull on Kurt’s hand for them to fall into each other, lips aligning automatically, every point of contact buzzing even through the clothes. The world tilted back to normal. Blaine couldn’t ask for a better end of the day.

But Kurt, as always, was full of surprises. “Were you planning to go to Artie’s party?” he asked, a little breathless, when their lips finally parted.

“Not really. Why?”

“Because I want to go to your house.”

Blaine’s mouth went dry. “Okay.”

 

***

The ride to Blaine’s house was so very different from last night – and so much better. They talked about the show and the audience’s reactions, and sang with the radio. They touched whenever they could, Kurt’s hand leaving the wheel to hold Blaine’s for a moment, Blaine’s fingers skimming the top of Kurt’s thigh. Blaine practiced focusing and sending his emotions to Kurt, but the only thing he managed to communicate was being horny, and Kurt wasn’t sure if it had anything to do with the mind connection. They were laughing together as they got out of the car in the Andersons’ driveway, and Kurt felt warm and safe, secure in Blaine’s love. He went easily when Blaine pulled him into his embrace as soon as he shut the passenger’s door behind him.

“I’m so glad you aren’t angry with me. I messed up so bad last night, with the drinking and Sebastian and–” Blaine buried his face in Kurt’s shoulder and Kurt’s arms tightened around him instinctively.

“He saw us, you know,” he murmured, cheek on Blaine’s hair that felt stiffer than usual tonight, almost like a gelled helmet stuck to Blaine’s head.

“When?”

“Last night, when we were… arguing. He was standing in front of the bar, watching us. I think that’s why he was waiting for you tonight. Probably hoping we were on the rocks and he could swoop in and take the opportunity.”

“But we aren’t?” Blaine raised his head and looked up at Kurt, a trace of anxiety still in his features.

Kurt smiled. “No, Blaine. We aren’t.” He kissed Blaine’s temple.

“Thank god. Not that I would be interested in him even if we were, but I’m really glad we’re not. I will call him tomorrow, okay? Tell him to leave me alone. I have a feeling he won’t listen until he’s told explicitly. Probably several times.”

“I won’t cry if I never have to see him again,” Kurt admitted. “Now, can we stop talking about Sebastian and get inside? There’s something I want to do in your room.”

Blaine grinned. “Oh yeah? What is it?”

Kurt took his hand again and started towards the door. “I guess you’ll just have to wait and see.”  


	23. Chapter 23

Kurt had been carrying a small bottle of lubricant and a packet of condoms with him ever since their first conversation about going further, that afternoon after his West Side Story audition. They were in a little pouch tucked in the inside pocket of his bag, discreet and mundane enough so that even if someone saw it there, it wouldn’t seem out of the ordinary. Especially since Kurt was known to carry his face products and hand cream around.

Actually acquiring these items had been embarrassing enough – he’d gone to the big drugstore two towns over to avoid asking for them at the register or meeting anyone he knew – but he had decided that if he felt ready to make this final step in intimacy, he should definitely be ready to buy the necessary supplies. Just… baby steps. Maybe next time his heart wouldn’t try to jump out of his chest every time someone looked at the contents of his cart.

Carrying these items around felt a little presumptuous at first, but since they often ended up at Blaine’s house after classes, and the Andersons were out more often than Kurt’s own parents, he just wanted to be prepared in case the circumstances and their choices aligned perfectly one of these days. He hadn’t known if tonight might be _the_ night when he left home this morning. He wasn’t even entirely sure when he got out of Blaine’s car half an hour ago. It was not just his decision to make, after all, and the fact that Blaine’s parents were away until tomorrow was only one factor to consider, and not the most important one.

But now, with both of them naked and tangled on Blaine’s bed, lips kissed raw and pure need making their hands frantic, Kurt had no doubt what he wanted. He moaned loudly when Blaine’s fingers slipped down from his spit-slick balls, grazing his perineum. Kurt’s hips arched up, suddenly unable to contain his desire.

“Blaine… Blaine please, just–“

Blaine pulled off his cock with that perfect sucking pressure, his lips red and shiny with saliva. “Tell me what you want.”

“Would you… your fingers, can we–?”

“Yes. God, please yes.”

 

***

Blaine was mesmerized. What started with a single fingertip circling the tight bud of Kurt’s entrance and dipping shyly into the incredible tight heat, lead to this moment, with two of Blaine’s fingers moving easily deep in Kurt’s hole, in and out and curling just _there_ like he’d been doing it forever, and not just for the last ten minutes. It looked almost obscene, those two digits glistening with too much lube diving so freely between Kurt’s pale cheeks as he spread his thighs more, pushed his ass higher on the cushions, begging for Blaine’s touch with every twitch and gasp. The moans Kurt was letting out were the most raw, out of control sounds Blaine had ever heard him utter, and he wished he could really see Kurt’s face, not just the part visible between his arms. But Kurt had chosen to be on his stomach this time, and that was fine. They would have plenty more times to try every position imaginable. As it was, Blaine had a spectacular view anyway, what with the fire from the fireplace casting warm, undulating light all over Kurt’s perfect skin. Every curve and line of Kurt’s body looked golden and when he moved, arching under Blaine’s tender, careful touch, the play of his muscles kept stealing Blaine’s breath away.

Blaine had insisted they move from his room down here when Kurt had asked for them to go further than they had before. Despite Kurt’s impatient whining, he didn’t regret taking the time to make a soft nest in front of the fireplace for them, and build a real fire. If this was going where he hoped it was, Blaine really wanted this night to be special. Especially after the car sex fiasco.

Carefully, he slid another finger in along with the two he’d been using. Kurt tensed for a moment, a huffed breath escaping, but soon he was moving his hips to meet Blaine’s fingers again. The clenching tightness made Blaine’s breath stutter and he moved his hips further away from Kurt’s body to avoid the temptation of just rubbing his leaking cock against anything to relieve the ache.

Sooner than he expected though, Kurt started squirming impatiently, his voice breathy and high as he moaned.

“Okay, more, Blaine, oh god. I want you, can you just –” He turned his head to look at Blaine, flushed and sweaty, oh so gorgeous. “Make love to me, Blaine?”

“ _Yes_.” Hands shaking and heart beating frantically somewhere in his throat, Blaine flailed for a condom. He found it, only to drop it and surge forward for a kiss instead. They were going to do it, this last of the firsts, together. Now. He felt giddy with anticipation and love so deep it hurt. Kurt laughed happily against his lips. Blaine could feel his excitement bubbling through his own mind like an echo.

There was a fair amount of fumbling with the condom and the lube – everything was so _slippery_ – and making sure Kurt was still comfortable in the position he chose. Then they were ready, as ready as they would ever be, and with a last shaky breath, Blaine slowly pushed into the tight, tight heat.

Kurt inhaled sharply when the head of Blaine’s cock breached his entrance, but didn’t freeze, bearing down and relaxing as much as he could, his mind open to Blaine and emotions flowing freely: encouragement, eagerness, love. Before Blaine knew it, he was about two inches deep and he paused, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Kurt was panting softly beneath him, his muscles tense, and Blaine stroked his back, pulled out a little and rocked back in, just tiny movements that made his eyes roll back in his head nonetheless. It was like a vice in there, like a perfectly fitted glove enveloping his cock, and it was hard to restrain himself from pushing deeper. But he would never want to hurt Kurt, so he waited, rocking gently back and forth, until the movements became easier and the body beneath him relaxed back down into the pillows. Only then did he try to push a little further.

Kurt flinched forward, away from his cock.

“Sorry, sorry,” Blaine gasped, freezing. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, sorry. Just startled.” Kurt’s voice was still high and breathless, and Blaine resumed his rocking motions, intent on trying to slide deeper in smaller increments. If he managed not to explode before he had a chance to bottom out, that is – which was quickly becoming a very real possibility. It was just too good, too tight, and he couldn’t, he had to control it somehow, that would be selfish–

Too focused on holding back the orgasm building deep in his balls, he didn’t realize something was wrong until he heard a muffled hiss. When he snapped back in to focus, Kurt’s fist were clenched in the sheets, his muscles tight and he was breathing in rapid, shallow pants – but when Blaine stopped, he hurried with, “I’m okay, I’m okay, come on, please.”

“Are you sure?”

“ _Yes_ , Blaine, come _on_.”

He resumed his movements – if that was what Kurt wanted, he would give it to him. But orgasm was suddenly far from the first thing on Blaine’s mind. Something was off – the lines of Kurt’s body too tight, and not with the pre-orgasmic tensing when every muscle clenched in expectation of pleasure. His breathing was wrong, uneven and shallow, and he was flinching ever so slightly whenever Blaine tried to push in any deeper than where he was from the beginning, his feet digging into the bedding where they braced Blaine’s knees. Slowing down, Blaine focused on their emphatic connection, his mind not catching anything until he focused hard, and then–

He moved to kneel up and Kurt’s hand shot back to hold his thigh.

“No! No, don’t pull out.”

“Kurt, come on, you’re freaking out and you’re _this_ close to whimpering. This isn’t right. Let’s take a break.”

“You can finish. I’m fine, I promise.”

“No, you’re not. You can’t fool me, remember?” Blaine slid out carefully and quickly got rid of the condom before lying down next to Kurt so that he could see his flushed face. “Did it hurt?”

Kurt sighed and turned to his side to face him. “Not really? Not until you tried to go deeper. Mostly it was just weird. But you didn’t have to stop, it would pass, I know it would. I just have to get used to it. Come on, let’s try again.”

Blaine stroked Kurt’s marked collarbone with his knuckles, a soothing gesture. “Maybe next time. Another day, okay?”

Kurt’s face fell. “You… you don’t want to?”

“I do. But I want you to be comfortable. So that _I_ can be comfortable. There’s no hurry, Kurt. It doesn’t have to be tonight, does it? We have plenty of time.”

Kurt pouted. “But I wanted it. I still do. It’s just– ugh, stupid body. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. I fail at gay bars, I fail at gay sex–“

“ _No_ ,” Blaine said, cupping his distraught face. “Don’t even think that. It’s not a contest or a race. Are you doing it because of last night? Because of Sebastian?”

Kurt groaned. “Don’t _ever_ say that name when we’re naked in bed together, Blaine.”

“Sorry,” Blaine winced. “But are you?”

“I don’t think so? I mean, I want this, I’m ready, and you said you are too, and we have the opportunity with both of our parents gone, so why not tonight? It’s not like we have so many chances to spend the night together.” Kurt still looked annoyed with himself, and Blaine wrapped an arm around him and gathered him closer against his chest. Kurt gasped softly when the shift pressed Blaine’s still very much interested cock to his belly. “ _Oh_. Can I at least suck you?”

Blaine shook his head and kissed Kurt’s forehead. “Let’s just call it a night. Can you stay over anyway?”

Kurt sniffed and laid a kiss over Blaine’s heart. “That was the plan. Do you still want me to?”

“Of course I do. Come on, let’s put out the fire and go to bed. I want to cuddle and fall asleep with you.” 

 

Waking up naked in bed with Kurt was the best thing ever.

Well, maybe the second best. Waking up naked with Kurt’s cock hard against the small of Blaine’s back and his hand stroking Blaine’s ass was even better. Want was rushing through Blaine’s body before he was even properly awake, and without opening his eyes, he reached under his pillow. Kurt gasped when Blaine pressed his ass into his hand and passed him the half-empty bottle of lube.

“Do you want me to–?” Kurt asked, his voice sleep-rough.

“Yes,” Blaine whispered. “Please.”

Still on the verge of sleep, he was warm and pliant, melting into Kurt’s every tentative touch and moaning softly when Kurt’s fingers slipped shyly down his cleft. His skin felt electric, his whole body focused on nothing but the sensual pleasure of Kurt’s touch.

In the early morning sunshine streaming through the window, in the quiet of the empty house broken only by his own helpless moans, Blaine felt like the moment couldn’t be more perfect. He couldn’t give in to Kurt’s hands more than he did right now, couldn’t open himself up more, so ready and so wanting. Kurt’s fingers felt so natural, sliding easily into him, not like an intrusion at all but like something Blaine had been waiting for, yearned for, like another level of connection. But fingers were not enough and soon he was squirming and gasping and pulling away from Kurt’s hand, his eyes pleading as he turned to look at him.

“Kurt. Inside, please.”

Kurt breath stuttered. “O-okay. Wait. Condoms.”

Blaine groaned. “They’re downstairs.”

“I have some in my bag.” Kurt started to sit up but Blaine caught his hand.

“No, don’t go, let’s just– We don’t really need them, do we?”

Kurt stared at him for a few seconds, his mouth open, then he blinked. “We don’t but– Are you sure?”

“I am. Please, Kurt. I want you in me. Now.”

“Okay.”

Being the little spoon would never be non-sexual again, Blaine thought abstractly as he lay comfortably on his side with Kurt’s body hard and warm behind him, so familiar but for the new and exciting feeling of the blunt head of Kurt’s cock slipping between his cheeks and nudging against the stretched, sensitive rim of his hole. Blaine moaned and pushed back immediately and it just – slipped in, easy and amazing with the slightly burning stretch and the fullness that took Blaine’s breath away.

“Oh my god,” he huffed out when Kurt paused with barely the head in. “More, Kurt. Deeper.”

“Already?” Kurt sounded slightly panicked even though his body trembled with restraint.

“Yes. Come on,” Blaine panted. It was so good, and so not enough, but when he tried to just push back and impale himself, Kurt moved back with him.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t, come on. I need more. Please. Please please please… _oh my god_.”

Kurt finally gave in and slid deeper, one smooth push all the way in, and _god_. Blaine could feel him everywhere – he was so perfectly filled, he could feel Kurt’s balls touching his, Kurt’s hipbones digging against his ass as Blaine leaned instinctively forward to get a better angle, one that moved Kurt’s cock even deeper inside him.

“Are you okay?” Kurt’s frantic voice broke into his daze.

“I’m perfect, god, Kurt. Move, please move. I want you to fuck me.”

Blaine had no idea he would love this so much. The few times he had tried this alone were fine, and he got off harder with his fingers in his ass while jerking off, but this, with Kurt’s cock deep inside him, moving faster as Kurt seemed no longer able to hold back, was another level of pleasure entirely.

It wouldn’t last long at all.

Pleasure welling up like a tide inside him, Blaine caught Kurt’s hand before it could encircle his bobbing cock.

“No,” he gasped. “If you as much as touch me, this will be the end of it.”

“Please.” Kurt’s voice was strained. “I want you to come first and I _can’t_ much longer… Blaine.”

It only took three slides of Kurt’s hand, a few fast, hard jerks of Kurt’s cock deep within him and he was coming, so hard his body twitched, muscles spasming with every pulse. Behind him, Kurt stilled, his voice breaking roughly in a cry of Blaine’s name before his teeth sunk into Blaine’s shoulder in a delicious counterpart to the pleasure ebbing through his body. 

 

They came down feeling ravished – sweaty bodies still stuck together, breathless and high on the absolutely _fantastic_ sex. But then Kurt moved a little, his spent cock almost sliding out, and he let out a distressed sound.

“Oh god, we haven’t thought this through. This is going to be such a mess, what do I do now?”

He sounded so mortified that Blaine couldn’t help but giggle – which was a mistake, of course, because Kurt _did_ slide out then, and with him enough warm wetness to make Blaine squeak and quickly grab a handful of tissues from the bedside table. He fumbled awkwardly to turn to his other side so that he could face Kurt and keep the undignified process of cleaning up as discreet as possible. Kurt’s face was bright red when their eyes finally met.

“So that was–” Blaine started, feeling himself blush, too.

“Amazing,” Kurt breathed, to his great relief. “But _so_ messy. I think I’m not quite ready for this part yet.”

Blaine chuckled self-consciously. “Yeah, maybe we should stick to condoms for now. But did you like it?”

Kurt beamed. “I loved it. And I have a feeling you liked it too.”

“ _Duh_.” Blaine rolled his eyes and ducked his head to kiss Kurt’s nipple. “So when can we do that again?”

“Sadly, not today. I have to shower and go home; Dad and Carole should be back soon and I don’t want to rely on Finn to lie for me.”

Blaine arched an eyebrow and Kurt quirked a lopsided smile. “Did you actually think they _let_ me spend the night with you?”

Oh. Okay then. Blaine was going to pout for some more time cuddling in the afterglow, but the prospect of getting on the wrong side of Burt Hummel made him sit up. “Okay then, shower time! You go first.” 

 

After closing the door behind Kurt, Blaine went back to his room that still smelled of sex, and stretched leisurely on top of his sheets, sated and happy.

The insistent buzzing of his phone woke him up an hour later. Still bleary-eyed, he looked at the display and frowned. Oh well, he could just as well deal with it now.

“Sebastian,” he said in lieu of a greeting. “I was just going to call you today.”

“Were you?” The voice in the speaker sounded surprised.

Blaine sighed and got up to sit in his desk chair. Talking to Sebastian while lying on the bed felt wrong.

“Don’t get too excited. I just wanted to ask you to back off. I saw you last night. I read your texts after the show. I appreciate that you find me attractive, but I’m just not interested, Sebastian. At all. I’m with Kurt. I love Kurt, he’s my soulmate, what we have is special and I’m just not interested in any other guys, okay? Please respect that.”

He fully expected some sarcastic quip, but Sebastian paused before saying with an unusual softness, “Okay. I will. Just… could we meet today? At the coffeeshop or wherever you choose.”

“Sebastian, I just told you–” Blaine snapped, impatient.

“Please. It’s important. I need to talk to you alone. Just give me five minutes.” He sounded so serious, worried even, that despite his better judgment, Blaine couldn’t say no. 

 

They met in the Lima Bean two hours later. Blaine was wary as he approached the table where Sebastian was waiting for him, hands folded on the table and two coffee cups in front of him. He smiled as Blaine sat down on the edge of the chair.

“I bought you coffee.”

“You really shouldn’t have.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes, some of his usual attitude showing through the weirdly subdued air he exuded today. “Come on. I’m just trying to be nice, I promise I didn’t spike it.”

Blaine sighed and took the cup. “Thank you. So what was it that you wanted to talk about? I don’t have much time.”

Sebastian cleared his throat and took a sip of his own coffee before speaking. “Right. So… I was thinking about you last night before I went to sleep. You really looked so hot on that stage, I couldn’t resist–“

Blaine bristled. “Ugh, I should have known better. I tell you that I’m not interested and I want you to back off, and you make me meet you so that you can tell me about your fantasies? No, thank you.” He started to stand up, but Sebastian shot forward and grabbed his hand.

“No, please, hear me out.” Sebastian’s eyes were wide, his breathing fast. He pulled his hand back when Blaine paused. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know for sure you weren’t interested last night. So I… yes, okay, fantasized. I’m sorry. But that’s not really important. I had dreams about you all night afterwards, but that’s not important either.”

“So what _is_ important?” Blaine was really losing his patience now. 

Sebastian gave him a long, pleading look. “This morning… when I woke up, I found this.” And with that, Sebastian pulled up the overlong cuff of the sweater he was wearing.

Blaine gasped.

There, in a neat straight line from the side of Sebastian’s left wrist to the first knuckle of his thumb, was Blaine’s name – in his own handwriting, in the all-too-familiar sepia tones of the mark.


	24. Chapter 24

The house was silent when Kurt let himself in just before nine in the morning. He left his shoes by the door, eager to get to his room and enjoy a few hours of uninterrupted solitude before Finn woke up or their parents arrived, whichever came first.

Even after an hour in the car, he still felt like he was floating. Last night hadn’t gone like he’d thought it would, but the crucial elements were there, making it perfect even in its imperfections: the love and trust that had turned what initially felt like a failure into one of the most intimate, honest moments of their relationship. Sleeping in Blaine’s arms all night and waking up pressed against his warm, naked skin. Making love in the morning, the easy coming together of their bodies that felt more natural and more intense than Kurt could have ever imagined.

Thank god his parents weren’t home yet. He was pretty sure the way he was vibrating with happiness first thing Sunday morning would be hard to explain to them.

“Morning.”

Finn’s voice from behind almost made Kurt trip on the bottom step. He steadied himself and turned back, incredulous.

Finn was sitting at the kitchen table, hunched over a steaming cup. He looked like crap – and not the kind of crap that might result from getting up impossibly early by his weekend standards. His hair was sticking out at weird angles and his eyes were bloodshot with dark circles underneath. There was a large stain of what looked like tomato sauce on the front of his wrinkled shirt.

“Coffee?” Finn asked. “It’s pretty awful. I’m not sure if I messed it up or if it’s supposed to taste like this.”

The fact that his stepbrother, the coffee virgin, chose this morning to break his lifelong aversion to the drink of gods was enough of a shock to shake Kurt into action. Leaving his bag on the stairs, he marched into the kitchen and poured himself a cup. He took a sip and cringed in disgust.

“Ew. No wonder it’s awful. It’s decaf, and you used maybe half of what you’re supposed to. Let me make some decent coffee,” he said, pouring the swill down the drain and reaching for the right can. “What happened that made you decide to try it at last?”

“I think I have a hangover.” Finn pushed his cup away with visible relief. “Puck said I need to drink lots of coffee if I want to make myself presentable before our parents come home.”

Once the coffeemaker was gurgling happily, Kurt reached for a pan and a carton of eggs. “You went out drinking with Puck last night?” he asked, keeping his tone light even as worry rose like a red flag. This wasn’t like Finn at all.

“We didn’t really go _out_ ,” Finn mumbled, his forehead cradled in his hands. “Just sat in his room and drank tequila. I think I passed out at some point; I barely managed to crawl home in the morning. Puck looked just fine though and I’m pretty sure he drank twice as much as I did. Not fair.”

“That will teach you not to drink with Puck.” Kurt put a few strips of bacon on the sizzling pan. “Why did you, anyway?”

The smell of frying meat was quickly filling the kitchen and Finn moaned, dropping his head to the table.

“Dude, do you have to cook right now? I think I’m gonna be sick.”

“It will make you feel better if you eat something.” Kurt put two slices of bread in the toaster. The coffee was ready, so he took Finn’s cup, dumped the rest of the decaf and refilled it. He put it in front of his brother. “And I suggest trying some cream and sugar with your coffee first.”

“I don’t think I can eat anything,” Finn forced out through gritted teeth.

“Try at least,” Kurt said, adding eggs to the pan. “It should settle your stomach. In the worst case scenario you’ll throw up, which may make you feel better too.”

“How do you even know anything about hangovers?” Finn eyed him suspiciously, the side of his face smooshed into his folded arms on the tabletop.

Kurt smirked. “Well there was that one time sophomore year. Remember when April Rhodes came to Glee the first time? She tried to show me the benefits of wine. Dad was a little shocked when he had to pick me up from school because I was drunk. But he was a bit amused too by the time we got home. Said it served me right for trying something that was not for kids, but then he made me greasy food and it actually helped. So, here you go. Eat up.” He put the plate on front of Finn, adding a slice of toast. The second one he left for himself. He’d had no time to eat anything at Blaine’s.

Finn reluctantly picked at the food. After a few forkfuls he must have decided it wouldn’t kill him after all because he dug in in earnest. Kurt waited patiently, leaning against the counter and nibbling at his toast as Finn emptied the plate and drank the coffee. Finally, when it was all gone and Finn looked a little less green, Kurt asked again.

“So why did you need to drink yourself unconscious?”

Finn sighed.

“Remember when I said the recruiter from Ohio State was coming to look for a new quarterback? And that I may have a chance at a scholarship?”

 _Shit_. He totally forgot. He’d been too focused on Finn’s mean behavior towards Blaine these last few weeks. Still, he nodded, his face a careful mask of interest.

“So he came yesterday. The coach called us in for a special practice so he could observe.“

“Did you get it?” Kurt asked, despite the sinking feeling that he already knew the answer.

Finn shook his head, his face blank. “No. He chose Shane. I went to talk to him to ask for prompters or some advice, you know? And he said high school football is it for me, that I’ve reached my ceiling. There’s no way I will ever play professionally, or even on a college team, I’m just not good enough.”

Kurt winced. “Finn, he’s just one guy, it was just one practice, it doesn’t mean anything yet–“

“It means that I don’t get the scholarship. And Kurt, he _knows_ this stuff. He knows what he’s talking about. If he says I’m done, then I’m done.”

“But–“

Finn shoved his chair away from the table and got to his feet. “Kurt, I know that you want to help, but this isn’t working, okay? I need to accept the fact that football isn’t my future. And now I don’t really know what my future is. That’s why I got drunk. To forget I’m just a loser who has no idea what to do with his life.” He took his cup and plate to the sink, putting them in with too much force.

“You’re _not_ a loser,” Kurt said emphatically. Finn just shrugged.

They were silent for a moment, just standing there in the sun-filled kitchen, before Kurt asked cautiously, “So what do you _want_ to do?”

Finn shrugged. “Right now? I mostly want to go sleep it off.”

“I meant… after graduation.”

Finn sighed. “I really don’t know. It was always going to be football. That was the one thing I was sure about. Rachel used to tell me that I’m meant to be a performer. She thought I should have bigger dreams.”

“What do _you_ think?”

Finn sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Frankly, I don’t see it. I’m not as talented as the three of you. I can’t imagine myself on stage ten years from now. And I’m not a big city guy. I’m fine here in Ohio.”

“So maybe a local college then? You can do that without the scholarship, too.”

“Doing what?” Finn asked. “No man, I’m not even sure if college is for me. I don’t like studying all that much, why would I want four more years of it if I can’t even play football? I don’t know, maybe I should join the military. Or take your dad up on his offer.”

“What offer?” Kurt frowned, and Finn’s eyes widened in alarm.

“Oh crap, I didn’t mean to– Has he talked about it to you at all?”

“I don’t know, you’d have to tell me what he was supposed to talk to me _about,_ ” Kurt quipped, some remnants of an old insecurity flaring.

“Oh, right. I meant the garage. He said that if he gets into Congress, he will need help with the garage, and that I could maybe run it for him if I wanted to. He said I have a good head for it, that maybe in time he would name me a partner and–“ He looked Kurt in the eye, his face a picture of sincerity. “But I would never accept it if you aren’t okay with it. He’s your father, I’m not trying to take your place or anything man, I swear.”

Kurt laughed, relieved. “Oh, no, please, knock yourself out. I’m not going to be much help running the business from New York, am I? And I may look fabulous in overalls, but being a mechanic is not what I want to do in my future. I’m sure dad could use your help, and that you’d be great at it. Go for it, if that’s what you want.”

Finn shot him a shy, lopsided smile. “I don’t know for sure, but I _am_ good at it. And I like working with my hands, you know? It wouldn’t be a bad life.” He paused to yawn widely. “Okay, too much thinking for Sunday morning. I’ll go get a nap, try to feel human again before they arrive. And thanks.” He motioned to the plate in the sink. “It really helped.”

Somehow Kurt had a feeling he didn’t just mean breakfast. 

 

With Finn back in his room, Kurt quickly cleaned up after breakfast and then climbed upstairs, too. He needed to change into fresh, comfortable clothes that didn’t shout “I was just out spending the night at my boyfriend’s”. His dad may not know much about fashion, but after living with Kurt for so many years he could definitely tell a “Sunday at home” outfit from anything Kurt would wear outside.

He couldn’t resist standing in front of the tall mirror in nothing but the navy boxer briefs, the flush high on his cheeks as he regarded his reflection. Nothing had really changed in the last 12 hours, and yet he felt like it had. He could feel it in his muscles, in the thrumming under his skin, the slight discomfort left after their attempt last night attempt. But more than that, he felt it in his heart. This morning, with their bodies joined so completely, he felt it more than ever before: they were one. Two parts of a whole, two halves of one soul that miraculously found each other, never to be alone again. Their connection was forever, no matter what life threw at them.

It felt like an anchor, a safe place to always come back to, no matter what. The marks on their skin were a seal. A promise.

Forever had never felt so certain before. 

 

Blaine texted him two hours later and Kurt frowned at his phone, rereading the message.

_need 2 see u asap, be there soon_

This was quite unlike Blaine who always took pride in his grammatically correct texting. And did _soon_ mean–

A doorbell rang.

Oh. That kind of soon then. Where had he been that he managed to get here in under five minutes?

Finn was in the kitchen, looking half-conscious and trying to resuscitate himself with the newly discovered miracle of coffee when Kurt ran downstairs to open the door. He squinted at Kurt over the cup.

“I was just going to get that, I swear.”

“It’s okay, Finn. It’s for me anyway.”

Blaine wasn’t smiling when Kurt opened the door. He didn’t even lean in to kiss Kurt like he always did, and okay, they had seen each other mere hours ago, but something was clearly wrong with that. Kurt could immediately feel how jittery Blaine was. Did it have something to do with last night? Had Blaine’s parents learned they had sex? Did Blaine regret it for some reason? What was going on that left him so shaken?

“I need to talk to you.”

That was all he got before Blaine ran up to his room without so much as acknowledging Finn’s presence. When Kurt caught up with him in the bedroom, Blaine’s shirt was already in a crumpled heap on the floor and he was pushing down his pants and underwear in one go. Kurt quickly shut the door, his eyes widening.

“Whoa, hey, Finn’s downstairs and our parents will be here any minute, what are you doing?”

Blaine didn’t pause in sliding off his socks until he stood naked in front of Kurt. “I need you to look me over.”

“I’ve looked you over pretty thoroughly this morning, you know,” Kurt teased, but it was half-hearted at best.

Blaine didn’t even smile. “No, I mean, _really_ look me over. My skin, everywhere. See if there isn’t anything different.”

“Different how? Blaine, what’s wrong?” Kurt frowned but started to carefully scan Blaine’s body, the well-known expanses of olive skin perfect as ever. “What am I looking for?”

Blaine was fidgeting, turning this way and that in front of Kurt’s big mirror. He was breathing fast and Kurt didn’t need his increased empathy to feel how anxious he was.

“A mark,” Blaine said finally. Then, when Kurt arched his eyebrows and looked pointedly at his hipbone, he added, “Not _your_ mark, just… I need to make sure there isn’t another somewhere on me.”

Kurt frowned. “ _Another_? What are you talking about?”

“Kurt, please, just–“ Blaine whimpered, trying to see every bit of his skin all at once. His hands were shaking, his movements jerky and increasingly fervent. Growing panic echoed through Kurt’s mind.

This was clearly not the time to ask questions. Blaine needed him calm. He could ask later.

“Okay, stand still. Let me see.”

Forcing his breathing into a slow, controlled rhythm, he pushed the feeling of calm gently towards Blaine’s mind as he busied himself examining the skin he’d spent so long covering with kisses just last night. With gentle, soothing hands, he stroked the planes of Blaine’s back and stomach, the curves of his ass and the strong, compact muscles of his legs and arms. He looked into every fold of skin, every crevice. Urged by Blaine, he checked the soles of his feet, the insides of his thighs. He blushed hard when Blaine lay on the bed and simply spread his legs, his cock flaccid over his soft balls and his hole still pink and tender-looking after this morning. The mood couldn’t be more different from when they parted, even though it was only four hours ago.

There were no marks there, either.

After one last look over Blaine’s scalp, Kurt pulled him to the bed and opened his arms. Blaine immediately fell into his embrace.

“There’s nothing, honey,” Kurt said, and Blaine sobbed, slumping with relief, naked against his fully-clothed chest. He was still shaking. “There’s just my mark, nothing else. As it should be, because you’re mine, and I’m yours. You know that. What’s going on?”

Blaine just breathed for a moment before peeling away and reaching for his briefs.

“Just let me–“ It took a moment before he was fully dressed, but then he settled on the bed by Kurt’s side and took his hand. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

Kurt nodded encouragingly. “You know you can tell me everything.”

Blaine took a deep, slow breath and whispered, “Sebastian has my name.”

The world froze, and then moved again at rapid speed as Kurt shook his head fervently.

“No. No no no. He must be lying.”

“I saw it.”

“You met him? Today? Right after–“ The words stuck in Kurt’s throat in an outraged swell.

Blaine had the decency to look embarrassed. “I didn’t want to, I told him to leave me alone when he called. But he said he had something important that he really needed to tell me, so I agreed to give him five minutes. That was the something. The new mark on his hand.”

Kurt shook his head again. He felt like stomping his feet too, but resisted the childish impulse to throw a tantrum. “No, that’s impossible. He must have faked it. Tattooed it maybe. It wouldn’t be above him.”

“Kurt, it wasn’t a tattoo. It looked just like yours, no redness, no swelling, nothing. Just the mark. And he didn’t have it two days ago, at the bar. Besides–“ Blaine broke to chew on his lip.

Kurt frowned. “Besides?” he prompted.

“I don’t think he’s lying about how he got it,” Blaine said quietly.

“What do you mean? How can you _know_ , Blaine? It _can’t_ be real.”

The idea that anyone else could have this connection to Blaine – _his_ Blaine – was unbearable. And _Sebastian_ , of all people!

Blaine shrugged. He looked utterly miserable. “He reacted to me when he touched my hand,” he said. Kurt bristled. “You remember how it was at the beginning, what a shock it was the first time. I saw that shock in his eyes.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Kurt said defiantly. “Everyone knows the symptoms now, they’re discussed all over the internet. He probably just read up on them and acted to make you believe his fake mark.”

“It’s not a fake!” Blaine exclaimed and Kurt dropped his hand, startled. Blaine squeezed his eyes shut and took a calming breath, massaging his temples. “I’m sorry, I’m just trying to explain. Do you think that I _want_ that? That it’s easy for me? I’m so freaked out I can barely breathe, Kurt, but denial won’t make it disappear.”

He was right. Kurt touched his hand, relieved when Blaine immediately intertwined their fingers again.

“No, I’m sorry. I’m just in shock, I think. Please tell me why you’re so sure that it’s real. I promise not to interrupt this time.”

Blaine hesitated. “Okay, in order to do that I need to tell you something about _my_ mark appearing, and I’m a little afraid you’re going to run away when I do.”

“Honey, it’s a little too late to run away now. Spill.”

“Okay. So… um.” Blaine paused and thought for a moment. “Do you remember what you were doing before your mark appeared?”

Kurt frowned. “Sleeping.”

Blaine blushed for some reason. “But were you thinking about me at all?”

 _Oh_. “Um. A little? Or maybe… a little more than usual. It was after _Baby It’s Cold Outside_. You were dreamy. I couldn’t help it.”

A slow grin spread on Blaine’s face, the comforting normalcy of sitting in Kurt’s room and talking clearly soothing his nerves.

“Oh was I? And were you just thinking or–“ He arched an eyebrow, teasing.

“Or what?” Kurt asked, but even as he was saying it, he understood. His eyes widened. “Oh my god, no! Of course I was only thinking, Blaine. Who do you think I am, some creeper?”

He saw by the way Blaine’s face fell in mortification that it was a wrong thing to say. His eyes grew even wider when he connected the dots.

“Blaine Anderson, are you saying you were doing more than just _thinking_ about me before your mark appeared?” He aimed for stern, but was unable to suppress the amusement in his voice. Blaine’s revelation might have freaked him out a little if he’d heard it when they had only just began dating. Now, not so much.

Blaine looked up at him with his best puppy expression. “I swear it was the first time.”

“The first of many, as we both know.” Kurt smirked.

Blaine groaned. “Like you said, it was after the duet. And _you_ were hot.”

“Oh really.”

“Believe me. So you don’t think I’m a creeper?”

Kurt pretended to deliberate. “Well, maybe a little. But you’re _my_ creeper, so I think I’m going to keep you.” Blaine laughed softly, relieved, and Kurt continued, “But what does it have to do with Sebastian’s mark?” He scrunched his nose just saying that name.

Blaine grew serious again. “Well, that’s how his mark appeared, too.”

“After jerking off?” Ugh. He never planned to think about the meerkat doing _that_.

“Yes. And thinking, apparently. About me.” To his credit, Blaine looked faintly nauseated too.

“Wait a minute. And he just told you that? _Hey, I was just getting off thinking about you when this thing popped up on my hand?_ ”

“Yeah, pretty much,” Blaine said.

“Classy. Still, how is it any proof of the mark being real?”

Blaine frowned. “Can’t you see? It’s exactly the same!”

“So?”

“So it’s not something you can easily find on the internet. You have no idea how long I had to search through the forums to find other people with similar connections. If he was going to fake it, I doubt he would use _that_ circumstance.”

Kurt made a face, still unconvinced. “Maybe he learned somewhere what it was like to you–“

“That’s the thing, he couldn’t,” Blaine stressed. “I never told anyone. Not even you. I didn’t write about it anywhere on the net, either, not when it made me feel like a pervert for months.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I was convinced the marks were just some sexual thing and the minute you learned about it, you’d run away screaming,” Blaine admitted.

“And yet, here I am.” Kurt stroked the top of Blaine’s hand with his thumb.

“Yes.” Blaine looked at him, suddenly unsure. “Though now, in the light of all that, I wonder if maybe it is sexual after all. I mean, there’s no way Sebastian is my soulmate, too.”

Kurt shook his head. “No. You don’t have _his_ mark. Maybe, if it even _is_ real–“

“It’s real, I’m sure of it,” Blaine said.

“Fine, if you say so. So maybe you are his soulmate, but not the other way around. But I despise you saying that what’s between us is just sexual.”

“No, I mean–“

“You know it’s not.” Kurt was on a roll now, his outrage giving way to defiance. “You’ve heard all the stories of the matched couples. Some of them have nothing to do with sex. The marks can’t be just about that. No, you’re my _soulmate_. And Sebastian… Sebastian is just some weird fluke.”

“What if I get his mark too?” Blaine asked in a small voice. Kurt hated seeing the fear in his eyes.

“You won’t,” he said with all the certainty he could muster.

“But you can’t know that! What if I do?” Blaine’s breathing was picking up again, his anxiety rising. Kurt squeezed his hand.

“Then we will worry about it then. But I can’t see it happening. You don’t want him, right?”

“I don’t, I swear.”

“I know.” And he did. He could read Blaine like an open book now – so close, so honest. He got to his feet and pulled Blaine to his desk. “Come on, let’s do some research. Maybe someone had something like this happen, too.” 

 

An hour later Kurt closed his laptop with a defeated sigh. It was useless. They found mentions of people having more than one name on their skin – which made Blaine’s hands tremble again – but the only case they saw concerning similar marks on two people turned out to involve two different women with the same, common name. Kurt very much doubted there was another Blaine Anderson with exactly the same handwriting somewhere out there.

“So what do we do now?” Blaine asked in a small voice. Kurt got up from the chair and led him to the bed again. They curled up on top of the sheets, despite Kurt’s parents being home now, audible through the half-open door.

“We do nothing,” Kurt said. “We live like we have so far. It doesn’t change anything for you, Blaine, or for us. You’re not responsible for it in any way.”

“But what if –“

Kurt interrupted. “You won’t get his mark. You won’t. You’re my soulmate and I refuse to share. I’m very selfish that way.”

He spoke with more conviction than he felt, but he achieved his goal – Blaine smiled at him feebly.

“You’re mine,” Kurt repeated, for himself as much as for Blaine. “Nothing can change that.”


	25. Chapter 25

The morning Kurt had made love to him for the first time, when Blaine was lying on his bed perfectly happy and blissfully unaware of what the next few hours would bring, he had imagined the weeks to come as a haze of naked bodies and taking advantage of every hour alone to  _practice_ what they’d just learned.

Well, he wasn’t wrong about the naked part.

A week had passed and he’d been bare under Kurt’s hands every single day. Too bad his galloping heart had nothing to do with arousal and everything to do with what Kurt might find there one day, written on his skin: Another boy’s name.

And yet he stood there naked so that every inch of his skin was accessible for scrutiny, tense and trembling as Kurt sighed and complied with his request, running his eyes and hands all over Blaine’s body in what had quickly become a daily routine.

Day and night, Blaine couldn’t get the thought out of his head. Every itch or twinge anywhere on his body sent him into a spiral, making him claw at his skin and run to the nearest mirror. He couldn’t sleep. He was barely able to function, and he kept anxiety meds in his pocket at all times. It hadn’t been this bad since the first months after Sadie Hawkins.

He couldn’t be Sebastian’s soulmate. He didn’t want to be, the mere thought made him shudder. Didn’t it matter? Would it change if he did get that second mark? Would his resistance melt away as soon as the words  _Sebastian Smythe_ appeared on his body? Even imagined, they felt wrong, like a malignant growth.

 

But they had remained imagined so far. Every time Kurt examined his skin, it ended with Blaine releasing the bated breath: the sentence had been postponed. There was still hope. Blaine would hold onto it with everything he had.

He knew it affected Kurt, too. He heard it in Kurt’s voice every time he called to soothe Blaine through a panic attack, having felt it even through the distance between their houses. He didn’t miss the angry set of Kurt’s jaw whenever Sebastian called or texted Blaine – which he did several times a day, during classes and in the middle of the night, claiming he couldn’t stop himself because of his mark. Still, Kurt remained unshaken in his certainty that this whole situation wasn’t a threat to them, and Blaine was infinitely grateful for this source of strength.

He didn’t know what he would do without Kurt there.

Though he had to wonder, in the rare moments when his anxiety wasn’t driving him out of his mind,  where Kurt found all that strength. It wasn’t like Kurt’s life was stress-free either, even without Sebastian in the picture. The elections were approaching and Brittany kept placing higher and higher in the polls. The prospect of NYADA was looming over them,  and if Kurt was accepted – a big if at this point – so was their impending separation. Blaine should be helping Kurt through all this, should be his anchor and his support. Instead, he was a mess.

At least Rachel had pulled out of the race during the final debate, urging everyone to give their votes to Kurt instead. It was a nice gesture. Too little, too late if you asked Blaine, but it was something. It lifted a little weight off Kurt’s shoulders. He and Rachel weren’t instant best friends again just because she had conceded, but it was clear that she wanted to be an ally. And Kurt could use allies, now and later in NY.

If only Blaine could do something to de-stress him instead of  adding to his trouble. He was biting his tongue to keep the stream of worry in, taking his meds before anxiety could really hit. But most of the time, Kurt was able to read him like an open book.

And when they ran into Sebastian the following week, everything came crashing down.  
  


***  
  


Blaine saw him first, just as they were walking into the Lima Bean, and he stopped awkwardly in the door.

“Um. Maybe we should go get coffee somewhere else,” he said.

“What?” Kurt frowned, trying to pass by him. He needed his caffeine fix, and he needed it now. This day had been hard enough already. “Blaine, we never have coffee anywhere else and I’m not about to–  _oh._ ”

Okay, Blaine was right. Anywhere else would be better.

Sebastian was sitting at the table near the door, staring at Blaine with an expression some probably might call dreamy. It was already too late to leave without looking like they were running. And Kurt Hummel would  _not_ run. Carefully avoiding looking in Sebastian’s direction, he took Blaine’s hand and led him to the counter. He could already feel the echo of nerves thrumming through his boyfriend’s mind, and it made him hate Sebastian a little bit more.

They had barely sat down with their drinks, as far away from the door as they could, when  a Dalton blazer hovered over their table. When Sebastian grabbed a chair and sat next to Blaine uninvited, Kurt could only curse himself for not planning their seating arrangement better. He was already so angry it felt like he was going to choke, and Sebastian hadn’t even opened his mouth.

“Hi, gorgeous. I had a feeling I would see you today, and here you are, sexy as ever.”

Oh, there it was. The anger bubbled and boiled over when Sebastian laid his hand on Blaine’s, whose eyes grew wide as he jerked it away. Kurt cleared his throat.

“Who invited  _you_? I’d like to have coffee with my boyfriend without my stomach turning.”

Sebastian looked at him as if he honestly hadn’t noticed him.

“Oh. It’s you. You know, I don’t need your permission to see my soulmate. Right, Blaine?”

Kurt swallowed an indignant sound, looking at Blaine for his reaction. But Blaine seemed unsure, painfully torn as he glanced between the two of them.

“I–” He cleared his throat and hid behind his cup of coffee. Sebastian took the opportunity to push on, staring at him lovingly.

“Can you believe I actually dreamed about this a couple of nights ago? Exactly like this, with you coming in wearing this exact shirt, handsome as ever. So I came here today and wow, it’s like a déjà vu. I swear, it’s trippy what this soulmate stuff does to me.”

A slip of fear snaked its way down Kurt’s belly now, clear amongst all the fury.

The  _dreams_.

He remembered them all too well, those first few months he’d had them almost every night – vivid, realistic scenes that never faded from memory when he woke up. Some of them had come to life since, which felt exactly like déjà vu. Some hadn’t.

But they hardly ever happened anymore.

Sebastian was stroking the top of Blaine’s hand with his fingers again, his face unbearably affectionate. Blaine moved his hands into his lap.

“Please don’t touch me.”

Sebastian let out a small chuckle. “I’m sorry, I can’t help myself sometimes. My fingers are itching to touch. I wish you could feel what I feel, Blaine,” he sighed. Then he smiled – a slow, private smile. “You will, as soon as my mark appears.” He leaned closer to Blaine, his stage whisper loud enough for Kurt to hear every word. “Because it will. I’ve seen that in my special dreams, too.”

Blaine gasped and scrambled up so fast, his chair screeched backward over the tiles. “I need some water,” he rasped and stumbled away, leaving Kurt alone with Sebastian.

“I don’t like you,” Kurt said as soon as Blaine was out of earshot, not holding back his signature bitch glare anymore.

Sebastian dropped his lovesick attitude and arched his eyebrows. “Fun. I don’t like you either.”

“I don’t like the way you talk to my boyfriend.”

“Oh, you mean – my  _soulmate_?” Sebastian smirked and leaned closer, setting  his forearms on the table between them. The sleeves of his Dalton blazer rode up a little.

Kurt inhaled sharply.

It was one thing to hear about Sebastian’s mark. It was another entirely to see it with his own eyes, clear and obvious between Sebastian’s wrist and his thumb. It was a shade darker than the one on Kurt’s collarbone, but otherwise nearly identical. And it was impossible to miss, the spot so visible no matter what Sebastian did with his hands. He certainly didn’t try to hide it.

Sebastian’s smirk grew into a predatory grin. “Let’s get something straight. Blaine’s too good for you. He’ll be mine by the end of the school year and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“You–”

Before Kurt could find a properly crushing insult, however, he felt a familiar wave of choking panic rushing through him. With a last murderous glance, he grabbed his and Blaine’s bags from the back of their chairs and hurried away from the table. He instinctively knew where to go, his soulmate empathy leading him like a GPS.

He found Blaine in the restroom. Hunched over the counter, Blaine was breathing in fast, shallow gasps, his eyes wild with fear. His hands were shaking so hard that the bottle of his anxiety meds rattled in his grip. Kurt took it from him and opened the resistant lid, shook one little pill out and brought it up.

“Here.”

Blaine fell heavily into his arms as soon as he swallowed the medicine. He was still trembling all over. Kurt held him close, stroking his back in a slow, soothing motion and trying to summon calm feelings to share with him. It still took a few minutes before Blaine’s tense muscles relaxed and his breathing evened out. His eyes were wet when he raised his head from the crook of Kurt’s neck.

“Kurt–”

“He’s just messing with you,” Kurt said, firmly. “He wants you to doubt yourself, and us, so that you’re an easier target for him.”

“But Kurt, the mark? The dreams? You know they’re real. And he said he  _saw_ me get his mark.”

Blaine’s breath was starting to speed up again. Kurt took him by the hand and led him out into the fresh cold air.

“I know they’re   _real_ ,” he said when they were seated on a bench opposite the Lima Bean, Sebastian thankfully nowhere in sight. “It doesn’t mean he’s not lying about  _what_  he saw. It sounds like something he would do.”

“But what if–” Blaine started.

“No, honey. I refuse to believe him unless I actually see his name on you. And if I do – well, we will deal with it then.”

Blaine wiggled in his seat. “Speaking of which… could we maybe go to my house? I think I felt something, I need you to check.” He rubbed the small of his back through his clothes, frowning.

Kurt felt a little twinge of fear, like he did every time Blaine was sure a random itch or skin sensitivity was a new mark developing. So far, they had all turned out to be his imagination.

“Of course,” he said, getting up. “Let’s go.”  
  
  
  


“Do you still get those dreams?” Blaine asked him as they walked to his front door an hour later.

“No,” Kurt admitted. “Do you?”

Blaine shook his head. “Do you think not seeing glimpses of our future… does it mean we don’t  _have_  a future?” He looked as if he’d been bracing himself to ask this question all through the ride home.

Kurt stopped and pulled him into a hug. “No,” he said firmly. “I think the dreams stopped because we have the real thing now. We don’t need them anymore.”

He felt Blaine exhale against Kurt’s throat, where he had his head tucked. “I like this explanation.”  
  
  
  


They avoided the Lima Bean after that day. Kurt made sure to provide every possible distraction for the next couple of days – both for Blaine’s and his own sanity. He asked for last-minute help with his campaign – elections were just days away, after all, so they brainstormed ways to attract more voters that didn’t necessarily include bribing them with pixie sticks, the way Brittany had. He decided it was high time to look through Blaine’s closet again and then go shopping for a few  additions. In preparation for Sectionals, he had Blaine practice Michael Jackson songs with him one night until his dad complained he was getting a headache. It was a busy couple of days, but at least their minds were firmly off the unwelcome subjects of rogue marks.

On the fourth day, when Blaine was growing restless again and Kurt was running out of ideas, a new distraction presented itself.

Santana returned to school after a two day absence, with her head held even higher than usual and a hint of puffiness around her eyes that even her careful make-up couldn’t hide. But what really turned heads from the moment she crossed the threshold was her right hand, which was firmly intertwined with Brittany’s.

It wasn’t like no one had ever suspected there was something between the two before. You’d have to be blind not to notice the way they looked at each other, the closeness, the casually joined pinkies when they walked in the hallways sometimes. But it had always been gossip, nothing more. Now, as Kurt watched, Santana walked directly to Jacob Ben Israel, who was staring at them in the middle of the hallway. Brittany was smiling happily at her side. 

“Where’s your camera monkey?” Santana quipped.

A scrawny sophomore tottered over, already pulling the camera out of his backpack and switching it on, directing its lens at the girls. Santana started speaking as soon as the green light at the top blinked, her words fast and clipped.

“News of the day: yes, I am a lesbian. My new mark makes it very clear. If anyone has a problem with that, they can go stuff it.”

She turned to leave, but Jacob had regained his power of speech by then.

“So is Brittany Pierce your soulmate?”

Santana stilled with her back to him. It was Brittany who turned her head, still with that serene smile, and said, “No. Her soulmate’s name is Danielle. Look.” She smoothed her hand down Santana’s toned thigh, and Kurt followed her gesture along with the camera and everyone within earshot.

There were bold brown letters climbing up the side of Santana’s right thigh and disappearing under her Cheerios skirt. Only the first four were visible –  _Dani_ spelled in a nice girly script. Santana caught Britt’s hand before she could move the fabric up to reveal the rest.

“Don’t, babe.” She said softly, turning to the camera again. “Brittany is my girlfriend. I don’t care what my mark says.”

Then she tugged at Brittany’s hand and they walked away. No one tried to stop them.  
  
  
  


Kurt waited until after Glee to approach Santana. Everyone else had had their turn by then, with their questions and curiosity and congratulations, so when Kurt called her name before she could walk out of the choir room, she rolled her eyes, and stayed back. The last of the Glee club trickled out, Britt pressing a quick kiss to Santana’s cheek and whispering something in her ear as she left for Cheerios practice.

“So, are you gonna congratulate me on getting my mark or act shocked that I’m still with Brit? I’ve had too much of both, just so you know.” She sighed. Now that she had dropped the smile she’d had plastered to her face all day, she looked like the last few days have taken their toll.

Kurt shook his head. “Neither. I wanted to tell you that I think it was very brave what you did. Coming out.”

Santana shrugged. “It’s not like I could hide it, not without quitting the Cheerios or wearing one of those concealing body stickers they started selling.”

“They make concealing stickers now?” Blaine asked incredulously. He’d just finished packing his things and hopped down to stand with them.

“Sure do. Not everyone wants to flaunt their mark, you know,” she smirked. “But I don’t feel like walking around with a big-ass band-aid all the time. Besides, it was time anyway. I don’t know how long I have left with Britt,” she said quietly. “It would be stupid to waste time hiding.”  

Kurt opened his mouth but before he could say anything, Santana shook her head with a determined expression.

“No. Whatever you’re going to say, don’t. I don’t know the girl whose name is on my thigh. She might be the most wonderful person in the world and I may appreciate her one day. But right now, I don’t know her and I feel like I don’t want to meet her at all.”

Blaine hummed comfortingly. “Come here.” He stepped forward and opened his arms, motioning Santana into a hug.

Kurt fully expected her to ignore the gesture, maybe with one of her snappy comments she was famous for, but she just looked at Blaine for a few seconds, surprised, and then shrugged and stepped into his embrace. She let herself be held for a moment, her breathing tremulous. Her eyes were dry but sad when she finally pulled away.

“I love Brittany,” she said softly. “I’m happy with what we have, even more now that we can finally stop hiding. Does this–” She tapped her marked thigh. “mean that I will stop loving her when I meet my supposed soulmate? Does it mean I will love this Danielle girl more? Because it doesn’t seem possible. It feels like there had been some mistake and I just want to wake up and have Britt’s name there. I was so sure it would be her.”

Kurt couldn’t even begin to imagine how hard it had to be for her.

“You know,” he said. “Who knows when you meet your soulmate? It could be years. The fact that you got your mark now doesn’t necessarily mean she’s about to drop into your lap immediately. You can have half a lifetime with Britt before you even meet that girl. And whenever it happens, whatever you feel then, you will work it out. I don’t think there’s a rule saying you have to end up with the person whose name you have if you don’t want it.”

“Well, I’m certainly not going to drop everything, put my life on hold and just wait like Berry did.” Santana sighed and looked between them, her eyes melancholy. “You two are so lucky. I get nauseated looking at you together sometimes, but you make it look like the whole soulmate thing is worth it.”

Blaine smiled. “So worth it.”

“Yes it is,” Kurt whispered.  
  
  
  


“Kurt, do you really believe what you said?” Blaine asked as they  walked to their cars after saying goodbye to Santana.

Kurt hummed inquiringly. “Which part?”

“That you don’t have to end up with the person whose mark you have?”

“Of course. It’s not like the marks erase free will, is it?” Kurt said, and then frowned. “Why? You’re not questioning us being together, are you?”

Blaine’s eyes widened. “No! No Kurt, I just… I was thinking about Sebastian.”

As if he’d been summoned, Sebastian stepped out from between cars, his grin almost predatory.

“Well that’s good to hear, Blaine,” he said, walking up until he was right in front of them. “I was wondering if you’d forgotten me when you stopped answering my texts. Did your boyfriend take away your phone along with your balls?”

Kurt could feel Blaine stiffen by his side and instinctively, he took a tiny step forward, shielding him. He felt a possessive twinge in his chest at the sight of Sebastian’s mark, clearly visible with the way his sleeves were hitched up.

“What are you doing here? You’re not a student, you’re not allowed on the parking lot.”

Sebastian just smirked at him. “Please. Like anyone cares.” He took a step to the side so he could look right at Blaine again without Kurt in the way. “I came because my dream said I would meet you here today after school. And here you are.” His smile for Blaine was different, private, and Kurt felt possessiveness like a beast clawing inside his ribcage.

“That’s not how the dreams work,” he snapped.

“Maybe not for you.” Sebastian looked at him, calm and amused. “Mine are very precise. I guess that means my bond to Blaine is stronger, don’t you think? If you even actually have his mark,” he shrugged dismissively.

Kurt just gaped at him for a moment, stuck between outrage and an overwhelming need to rip open his shirt and  _show him_ , something he would never do. He gathered his jacket closer around his chest.

It was Blaine who spoke. “Yes, he does,” he said, his voice strong even as it trembled slightly. “And I have his mark, Sebastian. Not yours. So please stop acting like I owe you something. It makes me uncomfortable.”

Sebastian arched his eyebrow, smiling salaciously. “Oh, but I could make you  _so_  comfortable if you let me. We’d have to have some alone time for that, though. What do you say? Or is he keeping you on such a short leash that you can’t even go anywhere alone?”

Kurt sputtered, but Blaine quieted him by taking his hand before answering. “I’m not going anywhere with you because I don’t want to. Just as I don’t want you to call or text me. Is that so hard to understand?”

Sebastian clearly decided to switch tactics, a look of hurt settling on his face now. “But you’re my soulmate!”

There was a moment of silence and Kurt thought that was it, the one argument Blaine wouldn’t be able to resist, not with his need to be whatever people expected of him. But then he spoke, so quietly Sebastian wouldn’t be able to hear if he stood any further away.

“But you’re not mine. So please leave me alone.”

Anger flashed over Sebastian’s features but as soon as it appeared, it was gone. “Fine,” he said, and he sounded genuinely broken. “But I’m not giving up on you. You will get that mark, and we will be together, Blaine. Just wait and see.”

With that, he turned and strode to the opposite end of the parking lot where a red Porsche gleamed in the cold afternoon sun.  
  


Kurt reached his house first. He got out of his car and waited, somewhat anxiously, for Blaine to pull up behind him.

He didn’t know what to expect. Blaine seemed fine, unusually calm when they parted back in the parking lot, but given how he’d reacted to anything related to Sebastian ever since the mark revelation, Kurt half expected him to snap at any moment. He’d driven the short distance making sure he could see Blaine’s car in his rear mirror at all times, waiting for – he didn’t even know what. A meltdown? Any hint of Blaine’s emotions reaching him?

There’d been none.

And now that Blaine got out of his car, he still looked calmly determined, and Kurt hurried to his side, taking his hand.

“You okay?” he asked.

“I am.” Blaine smiled and squeezed his hand. “I’m good, Kurt. Really good. He’s not controlling my life. I won’t let him. I can do this.”

There was fire in Blaine’s eyes, spark and strength, and Kurt smiled, relieved. “There you are.”

“Hey guys, wait up.” There was a slam of a car door and a moment later, Finn joined them on the driveway. “Are you…” he stuttered. “Was that guy harassing you? Do you need any help?” He looked between them, concerned. “Do I need to get the guys and go kick his ass?”

Kurt stared at him. “You heard us talking to him?”

“No, I only saw you from inside the school. But I remember how you looked when you were being bullied, and you kinda looked like that back there and– and it’s my job to protect you, now. You’re my  brother, Kurt. And Blaine’s your soulmate. So if anyone is giving you any trouble… I can help.”

He looked so sincere and intent that Kurt reached out and put his hand on his arm for a brief moment.

“It’s okay, Finn. Sebastian is trouble, but I think we can deal with him without violence.” He glanced at Blaine, who nodded briefly. “Thank you.”

Finn nodded, his face still serious. “Okay. But if you do need any help – and I mean you too, Blaine, okay? Just say the word. I’ve got your back.”

With that, he took out his keys and strode to the door. Moments later, Kurt could hear his steps thundering up the stairs.  
  
  


  
Barely half an hour had passed, and already Kurt was seriously considering taking Finn up on his offer. This was going too far.

They’d been doing homework , stretched out on his bed side by side, when Blaine’s phone began to ping. Not just once – again and again, in rapid succession. Finally, it got too distracting to ignore and Blaine sat up to fish the device out of his bag. His brow creased as he read through the messages.

“I don’t understand.”

“What?” Kurt asked and sat up too, looking over his shoulder.

“Half of the Warblers have texted me with congratulations, and I don’t know why.” His phone pinged again, this time with a text from Santana.

_WTF hobbit? I saw your mark._

Kurt’s heart was speeding up, a staccato of growing apprehension. “Ask her what she meant,” he said urgently.

Blaine sent a single question mark and in a few seconds, his phone lit up with her response:  _Go on Facebook._

Kurt reached across the bed to pass him his laptop, letting Blaine log into his account. And there it was. Tagged with his name, posted a few minutes ago, a picture of Sebastian’s hand with the mark proudly displayed to the camera.

Kurt saw red. He jumped up from the bed to pace nervously back and forth, his anger too great to contain. “I’m gonna–” he stopped short, a frustrated sound tearing out of his throat. He was not a fan of violence. He didn’t believe it was ever the way to achieve anything. But right now he felt a desperate urge to do something very violent to Sebastian indeed.

Beside him, Blaine gasped and Kurt stopped mid-stride.

“What? What else did that jerk do?”

“Remember that huge new feature Facebook has been teasing lately?” Blaine’s voice sounded choked, barely controlled. “Looks like it’s here. And it  _is_  huge.”

Bracing himself, Kurt dropped onto the bed again to see. On the screen, a large pop-up asked:  _Do you know the name of your soulmate yet? Share what your mark says – find that one special person NOW._ Below, the empty text window waited to be filled.

Blaine clicked  _Not now_ and the pop-up disappeared, showing Sebastian’s profile underneath. In his  _About_ window, bold red letters claimed:  _Soulmate to Blaine Anderson_.

Whatever Kurt was about to do – and he didn’t know what it was yet, but he felt he had to do  _something_  or he would burst – he was stopped in his tracks when Blaine whimpered, faint and trembling, “Kurt.”

He took the laptop from Blaine’s shaking hands, setting it carelessly on the floor, and hurried to pull Blaine into his arms, breathing deeply to keep his own emotions in control. But when he spoke, it felt like he was reassuring himself just as much as Blaine.

“It doesn’t matter. It’s just words, just a stupid website. We know what the truth is, people who matter know. It’s enough, Blaine, his words don’t mean  _anything_.”

But while his reassurances worked to turn his own fury into cold determination, it didn’t seem to help Blaine at all. He fell hard and fast, not the usual slide into panic that Kurt was already familiar with, but a mindless, frantic desperation. His eyes were wild, hands in a frenzied movement even while Kurt held him close. As soon as Kurt let go, Blaine started to pull at his own clothes, once again restlessly eager to strip and see, make sure there wasn’t a mark. Kurt felt like screaming.

“Kurt, could you just check–”

“No.” His own voice surprised him, hard and sure. “I’m not going to check for his mark. You don’t have his mark. You know it as well as I do, Blaine. And you told him just an hour ago, remember? You stood up to him, and I was so proud of you. He can’t control you, remember? You’re scared and overwhelmed right now, but you don’t have his mark.”

“But what if–” Blaine flailed. Kurt caught his hands.

“ _No_.”

He really couldn’t do this any longer, he was suddenly so sick of it. No more mark checks, no more thinking about Sebastian while looking over Blaine’s warm smooth skin, naked and trembling for all the wrong reasons. He didn’t want to be selfish, but he had to tell Blaine – show him – what it was doing to them. Blaine’s eyes were filling with tears, his lips trembling, and Kurt hated not giving him what he needed. But he couldn’t do it.

With a quick squeeze of Blaine’s hands, he got up from the bed. “I’ll be back in a minute, I promise.”

Blaine nodded morosely and curled on himself, looking so small and lonely on the edge of the bed that Kurt’s heart ached. Still, he turned away and walked out of the room.

Finn was in the kitchen, fixing himself a sandwich. He looked up when Kurt ran down the stairs.

“Hey, are you alright? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to mess with anything.”

Kurt shook his head, feeling frantic. “No, it’s alright. It was actually sweet of you. But I have to ask you for a favor.”

“Sure, dude. Anything.”

“Remember our conversation when you were going to have Rachel sleep over that one time and you wanted me to let you two be alone? When we talked about the brothers code?”

“The bro code.” Finn corrected. “Yeah, sure.”

“Okay, I need to call in the bro code now.”

Finn’s eyebrows rose. “You want me to go somewhere so that you can have sex with Blaine?”

Stated like that, it made Kurt blush. “I need to make Blaine feel better. Something happened and… I’ll explain later, okay?” The whole school would probably know by tomorrow anyway. “But the point is, it  _might_  involve sex, and I would really be more comfortable if you weren’t just across the hall.”

Finn nodded fervently. “Oh, yeah. Definitely. I’ll go hang out with Puck.” He trotted towards the hall, the sandwich still in his hand. “Just remember Burt will be home after eight.”

“I do. Thank you, Finn. I owe you.”

With one last grateful smile, he ran back up to his room.  
  
  
  


Blaine was still sitting on the bed like Kurt left him. He wasn’t shaking anymore, but he looked so miserable that Kurt just wanted to go cuddle him and tell him everything would be alright. But he’d tried that already, again and again. It worked for a moment, but didn’t solve the problem. No, he felt like he had to do something else this time. Something bigger.

The door slammed shut downstairs just as Kurt reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it off quickly, taking his undershirt with it. The pants came off next, underwear kicked off along with his socks, and in less than a minute, Kurt stood naked. Only then did he actually look at Blaine, who was staring at him with his lips parted in surprise and, thankfully, at least a bit of awe.

Kurt crossed the room in two quick strides and leaned down into a kiss before Blaine even managed to get over his shock.

He had a fleeting thought that he should feel self-conscious – naked and not even aroused in front of his fully clothed boyfriend – but he really didn’t. Still kissing, he navigated them so that he was straddling Blaine’s thighs, and soon Blaine’s hands came up around him to settle on his back. When he pulled away a moment later, Blaine’s eyes were wide.

“Look at me,” Kurt said firmly and Blaine swallowed, but didn’t look away from his face.

“I am looking,” he said.

“No, Blaine.  _Really_  look at me. Look at my mark. Look at my body. When was the last time you saw me naked?” Blaine’s eyes were roaming obediently down Kurt’s body, but he looked back up, frowning. Kurt laughed bitterly. “It was almost two weeks ago, Blaine. After we spent the night together. After we made love for the first time. You haven’t even thought about getting me out of my clothes since. And you haven’t come once, at least not thinking about me.”

“I’m sorry,” Blaine whispered and tried to hang his head but Kurt lifted his chin back up with a finger.

“I don’t want you to be sorry. I want you to look at me, touch me, kiss me. I want my boyfriend back. Ever since Sebastian told you about his mark, it’s all you can think about. I don’t know what he’s playing, but he’s clearly winning.”

Blaine’s eyes widened. “No, Kurt, it’s not like that, you know that!”

“I know, and I understand that you’re worried and preoccupied. But can’t you see you’re actually giving him what he wants? You don’t even have his mark and he has all of your attention anyway. Do you know how that hurts?” Blaine’s eyes filled with tears again, but before he could apologize, Kurt shook his head. “I’m not telling you this to make you feel bad. I just don’t know how else to remind you. You’re mine, Blaine.” He took Blaine’s hand and put it on his own collarbone, where Blaine’s name sat, sure and comforting. “You’re  _my_  soulmate, no matter what anyone says or writes on the internet. And I’m yours, don’t you see it every day when you get dressed?” He slid his hand under Blaine’s shirt to touch his own name there. He knew exactly where it was, even without looking. “I’m here. Look at me. Feel me. We’re together.”

The next thing Kurt knew, Blaine had him pressed even closer, the fabric of his clothes rough over Kurt’s naked body as they tumbled to the bed. “I’m sorry,” Blaine kept repeating as they kissed. “I’m sorry, you’re right, I’m yours. We’re here. I love you.”

Blaine’s hands were frantic on him, warm and strong, stroking over his back and down his thighs, reverent over Kurt’s mark, shy sliding down to his ass. Soon, Kurt was hard and moaning, wanting more, wanting closer, but unwilling to let go of Blaine even for a moment to undress him. So he just pushed Blaine’s shirt high, fumbled with his pants to open them and push them down a little, and then they were skin to hot skin, both hard and rocking into each other desperately, too dry and not enough, but so good.

Kurt reached to his drawer for lube and paused over the box of condoms underneath, a thrill running through him, more from want than fear. He wanted more – he needed more. Needed to be Blaine’s, entirely so, needed to feel him close, so much closer than this. He left the drawer open.

“Move up on the bed,” he said, and Blaine did, still tangled in his jeans but not even sparing a minute to kick them off, just reaching to pull Kurt close again. Kurt groaned when Blaine’s fingers slid right down to his ass, squeezing and kneading.

“Touch me there,” he said in a rush, before he could think too much.

“ _Kurt_ ,” Blaine whispered and there was such a reverence in his face than Kurt shivered and pressed into his hands. “Are you sure?”

“Please.” His own voice was shaking. He passed the little bottle to Blaine, who took it like a gift.

Then there were fingers at his entrance, sliding in slowly, one by one, with careful timing to let him get accustomed to the sensations. Blaine was watching his face with dark, wide eyes – attentive, concerned, so careful with him. But Kurt didn’t want careful. He just wanted, the desire burning ever brighter with every pass of Blaine’s fingers, every time he rocked down into Blaine’s lap to press them together, his own precome providing enough lubrication now. He could come like this, easily – drunk on Blaine’s touch and scent and the little sounds he was making, on the raw love burning in his eyes. Pleasure was buzzing through him, making him tingle and ache with need. It had been too long and he  _missed_  this. Missed  _Blaine_ like this.

But this wasn’t how he wanted to come. Now that the thought was there, he could imagine no other way than what sizzled through his brain, making his blood boil. He wanted to mark Blaine as his, own his attention so completely no one else would get there, no matter how hard they tried. He wanted to give him something so memorable there was no room in Blaine’s mind to think that anyone else, ever, might be his soulmate. Blaine was his. And he was Blaine’s. And right now, Kurt was going to show him just how much.

He stopped moving and Blaine’s fingers in him stilled, too, his face immediately concerned.

“Are you alright?”

Kurt smiled at him, feeling sexy and powerful and so  _certain_  now. “Oh, I’m much better than alright. I just need something.” He stretched slightly to reach into the drawer. Once his hand came back with the little foil package, Blaine gasped. His hips jerked up involuntarily and he moaned so loud at the sudden friction that for a moment Kurt wondered if that would be it.

But no. Blaine opened his eyes and just stared as Kurt scooted back so that he could have easier access. The movement caused Blaine’s fingers to slip out of him and he gasped softly, already aching to be filled again. The condom out of the wrapper now, he looked up at Blaine.

“Okay?”

Blaine nodded quickly. “God yes. Please.” Then he frowned. “Only if you want to though, okay?” Then Blaine’s eyes closed and he just panted softly as Kurt rolled the condom onto him and stroked him a few times. Kurt inched closer again so that Blaine’s cock was right under his ass. He leaned close to suck a mark on his neck and whisper into his ear.

“Oh, I want to. I want you so much.” He sat back up and smiled at the awestruck look on Blaine’s face. “Lube?” he asked innocently.

Blaine hurried to apply more on both of them and Kurt couldn’t even wait until he was done slicking himself up, he just pressed down against him, Blaine’s action providing the perfect positioning of his cock. Kurt was wild with want. It sang in his blood,  _my soulmate, mine, no one else is allowed_  and then his thoughts sizzled to a stop because it was again so much more than fingers but so much better, too. He didn’t know what had changed.  It should still feel weird like last time, but whether it was how much he wanted it, or the possessiveness that made him desperate, it was better. So much better that he couldn’t stop himself, loud and unrestrained like he never was before. Underneath him, Blaine was panting, looking at him like he was the best, most perfect thing he’d ever seen.

He got to that uncomfortable moment again, the point where he’d panicked before, tensing and making it all worse, but the twinge of pain didn’t scare him this time. He worked with it, minute rolls of his hips and deep breathing until he felt looser and then suddenly it was easy. In one smooth slide down he impaled himself completely until he was sitting in Blaine’s lap, Blaine’s cock as deep as it could go. He sat for a moment, taking it all in.

There was sweat on his neck and chest, a tickly droplet rolling down his back. He was panting and his cheeks felt on fire. And he had Blaine’s cock buried deep in him, hard and unyielding, filling him more completely than he ever thought possible. And it felt  _good_.

He did it. They were doing this. Blaine looked as incredulous and awed as Kurt felt.

“Does it feel good?” Kurt asked and oh, his voice sounded wrecked.

“God, Kurt, I just… I can’t  _think_  it’s so good. Are you okay?”

Kurt smiled. “I’m perfect.” And he really was. It felt right, being together like this. They were like two pieces of a puzzle connected together and god it was so cheesy and he so didn’t care. He could cry with how happy and right he felt.

Or he could do something better.

He lifted slightly on his knees and slid back down, the feeling of Blaine’s cock moving in and out of his body even better than that of merely being full. Moaning, he worked his hips harder, establishing a slow rhythm. He felt sensuous, like he was dancing, like his body  knew just what to do, rising and falling to a silent music, chasing the sparks of pleasure that seemed to set him alight all over.

Blaine’s moans were getting louder, more desperate. He arched under Kurt, and Kurt found it ridiculously hot that he was still mostly dressed under Kurt’s shamelessly naked body. He rolled his hips again, hand sliding to his own neglected cock. He hadn’t even realized how close he was until now.

“God, Kurt, if you could see yourself now.” Blaine groaned. “I can’t hold back much longer, I’m gonna come.”

“Good. Me too.” Kurt rasped, breathless.

Blaine reached for him. “Kiss me. Please, Kurt.”

Kurt went easily, and as he leaned down for a kiss, the angle of Blaine’s cock changed  inside him, a minute shift that made him see sparks. Blaine’s hand took over Kurt’s  cock, tight and wet between their bellies, and he kissed him hard. Kurt could only grip his shoulders and hold on for dear life as his orgasm swept through him like wildfire, everywhere at once, a loop of pleasure that seemed endless.

Blaine slid out of him gently a moment later. Kurt didn’t have energy to move. He let himself be rolled onto his side and scooped into Blaine’s arms, and still he could just breathe and hold on, feeling wrecked with bliss, faint tremors of pleasure running through his body.

When he opened his eyes, Blaine was smiling at him.

“Hi.”

“Hi. I can’t feel my legs,” Kurt mumbled into Blaine’s bicep that served as his pillow. “You okay?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“I know you do.” There was a calm warmth in Blaine’s eyes that Kurt had missed so much lately. He looked at peace. “You are my present and my future, Kurt Hummel.” He stroked his thumb over Kurt’s mark, another buzz of pleasure. “You’re my soulmate. The only one. Forever.”

 


	26. Chapter 26

Kurt hadn’t really expected to win the election. He wouldn’t admit it, but after everything that had gone wrong in the last weeks, he’d been quietly resigned for this to be no different. And yet, here he was, following Figgins to his office in the middle of Glee. If that didn’t mean he’d won and they wanted to tell him in person, he didn’t know what else it could be.

But as soon as they entered the office, Kurt’s heart in an excited gallop and the corners of his mouth tugging up despite his efforts to look calm and collected, he knew he was wrong. They wouldn’t summon his father to school just to congratulate him. There had to be some kind of a problem, and though Kurt had no idea what it could be, the serious looks on Figgins’ and Coach Beiste’s faces couldn’t mean anything good.

And then they told him, and that brief moment of expectation, that short flight on wings of hope, made the crash landing all the more devastating.

Cheating.

As if he would do something like that. Okay, yes, he may have fleetingly entertained the thought, but he wouldn’t.

He didn’t do it.

But then, someone had stuffed the boxes, making Kurt win by a wide margin, and Kurt for the life of him couldn’t think of a person who would do that. Was it a misguided, but well-meaning attempt by an unknown supporter, perhaps someone who counted on Kurt’s anti-bullying message to take hold? Or was it yet another prank designed to discredit and ridicule him, to knock him down a notch or two?

Well, if that was the plan, they had certainly succeeded. A potential suspension on his permanent record was the last thing Kurt needed while trying to get into a prestigious performing arts school when he didn’t have many achievements to show anyway.

Glee was over by the time Kurt left the Principal’s office, but Blaine wasn’t waiting for him outside the door yet, so Kurt started towards the choir room. He felt numb.

“Kurt, what happened?” Finn’s concerned voice made him look up from the floor. His brother was standing by his locker. Behind him, a few lockers away, Rachel paused with a book in her hand, listening.

Kurt told them. They would know soon, anyway. But the words were sticking in his throat, choking, and keeping his composure for more than a moment longer would not be an option. He had to find Blaine.

Not waiting for their reactions, Kurt hurried on, past Rachel who stood frozen, staring at him with her mouth open. He couldn’t talk to her now, not when all she would probably care about was his ever-diminishing chance of going to New York with her.

Blaine was just running down the next hallway when Kurt rounded the corner, and he grabbed Kurt’s hand immediately and pulled him into the nearest bathroom, closing the door behind them. As soon as they were alone, he pulled Kurt into his arms, his face worried.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Schue held me back. What happened?” he asked urgently, voice tense and eyes roving over every inch of Kurt’s face as if looking for damage. “Why do I feel like you’re heartbroken? What did Figgins say?” When Kurt didn’t answer immediately, choked by all the emotions that only just started to catch up with him properly, Blaine’s arms tightened around him. “Kurt? Talk to me,” he pleaded.

“They think I stuffed the ballot box. To win,” Kurt forced out through his clenched throat, and the injustice of it made his eyes sting. He deserved to win. He knew he did, his program was the only one that made any sense, it could _help_ people. Now he wouldn’t even know how many students actually voted for him. For all he knew, he might have won fair and square, but there was no way to tell now.

“What?” Blaine stared at him. “That’s crazy. You would never do such a thing!” The rightful indignation is his voice made Kurt feel a little bit better. Finally someone who didn’t doubt him, not even for a second.

“Of course I wouldn’t. But apparently someone did. They have more votes than people in the senior class.”

“Do you have any idea who it could have been?”

“None.” Kurt shrugged. “And even if I found out, I have no way to prove it.” He paused, then added quietly, “I may get suspended.”

“You what?” Blaine’s eyes grew wide.

“They said if they find any proof I did it, I’ll get suspended, and it will go on my permanent record.” Kurt laughed mirthlessly. “Looks like I don’t need to worry about leaving you for New York next year, after all. Problem solved.”

“What? No,” Blaine said firmly. “No way. I won’t let you give up without a fight.”

“There’s no use to even send the application now, Blaine.” Kurt shook his head.

“Yes there is. You’re going to send it, and then you’re going to audition and dazzle everyone. I have no doubt about it.”

“Blaine–”

“No. No arguments. You’ve never let other people tell you what you could or couldn’t do, and _now_ you want to start?”

“Blaine, that’s different,” Kurt tried, but Blaine just held him tighter and leaned in until their foreheads touched.

“It’s really not. You know you didn’t cheat. I know it. I’m sure no one in Glee club will believe it either when they hear. Don’t let whoever did this defeat you. You’re going to apply to NYADA, and you will get in. And I’ll be your insanely proud boyfriend–”

“And soulmate.”

“And soulmate, visiting you in New York every chance I get and looking forward to joining you there permanently. And then we will live happily and fabulously ever after.”

Kurt laughed wetly and closed the last couple of inches between them to kiss his crazy, wonderful boyfriend.

“I love you, you know,” he whispered against Blaine’s lips once they broke apart.

“I love you too. So much.”

 

  
In spite of Blaine cheering him up for a bit, Kurt’s mood was grim for the rest of the day. He went to bed early, only to spend hours tossing and turning, unable to stop wondering about who did this and why, and how it would affect his future. When he finally fell asleep, he dreamed of New York. The city was right in front of him, almost within reach, but every time Kurt made a step towards it, it moved away a little more, until it was just a shimmering mirage on the horizon.

He woke up with a headache, in a terrible mood that only got worse when he caught Finn looking at him funny over breakfast. School was a disaster. Everybody kept staring at Kurt as he passed, people whispering to one another, not even waiting until his back was turned. The word had clearly slipped out. Everybody knew.

And Kurt had no doubt they all believed that he’d done it, that he’d been so desperate to become the senior class president that he’d cheated.  No matter if the Principal found any proof it was him – and there was no proof to be found because it _wasn’t_ him, but Kurt had learned long ago it was not the truth that really mattered – in this school’s memory he would always remain the gay boy who dressed weirdly, sang like a girl, and cheated in election. Great.

The day felt like a neverending string of torture, but he plowed on because there was nothing else he could do. He congratulated his father when _his_ election results came in. He finished up  and sent the NYADA application, and another one to the local community college, just in case. He went to Glee, even though he just wanted to go home to bed instead. He kept a smile on his face, and congratulated Brittany, because she did win, after all, and he would not be a sore loser.

It was almost over when Rachel came in, her face tear-streaked, and confessed she was the one who stuffed the box. And Kurt lost it.

He didn’t say a word, though no one noticed it in the chaos that erupted when Rachel admitted she wasn’t allowed to sing at Sectionals, but inside, the rage burned hot and bright – so much so that Blaine stared at him with wide, worried eyes.

Who’d asked Rachel to interfere? Why did she always have to butt in and ruin everything? She had the admission in her pocket, with all of her extracurriculars and her solos and her leads to add to her talent, so why did she have to ruin Kurt’s chance, and his reputation while at it? She wasn’t dumb, how could she think no one would count the overall votes? Yes, she confessed; yes, he was in the clear – and fat lot of good it did him.

Kurt sat tight-lipped till the end of Glee and then hurried out of the choir room before anyone could attempt to talk to him, Rachel’s calls chasing him until he was a hallway away. He didn’t stop. Not until he was safely in his car, alone with his anger, speeding faster than he should but unable to lift his foot from the accelerator. He just wanted to be home.

The house was empty when he let himself in, so no one cared if he slammed the door to his room too hard. Not that it helped. Not really.

The text came five minutes later, after Kurt had thrown himself onto his bed and hid his face in his folded arms.

_I’m in your driveway_ , Blaine wrote.

Kurt groaned. He didn’t feel like company right now, not even Blaine’s. He needed time alone to process it all and find a way to turn his anger into something less destructive, and he couldn’t do that around other people. But Blaine was worried about him, he knew. He shouldn’t push him away.

Before he could tap out a reply, however, another message from Blaine came up.

_You want to be alone, don’t you? That’s okay. Just call me when you feel better?_

_I will. Thank you <3, _Kurt replied and hoped their empathic connection let Blaine feel how very, very much he meant it.

 

  
“You know, she really thought she was helping,” Finn said that evening over dessert. They were at Breadstix, enjoying a nice family dinner to celebrate his father’s victory. “Rachel, I mean,” Finn added. His face was hesitant; Rachel’s name sounded stilted on his lips, careful.

They had told their parents about Rachel’s involvement over the main course, and Kurt managed not to scream or do anything else that would ruin the mood. He felt better now. Not fine yet, but he was getting there. He wouldn’t let _her_ ruin anything else.

“And how would you know?” he asked. It came out snappy despite his best effort. Okay, so maybe he was still angry.

“I… she talked to me,” Finn admitted, hiding behind his glass of Coke. “Yesterday, after she heard you could be suspended. She… she had no one else to talk to, so she came over to me, and just… We used to be close, you know? She told me it was her, and that she just wanted to help you win. So that you had better chance at NYADA.”

“Yeah, some help that was,” Kurt said bitterly. “What did you tell her?”

“I convinced her she had to go to Figgins and explain.”

The cheesecake suddenly tasted like cardboard. Kurt pushed away his plate.

“Oh. So the confession wasn’t even her idea.”

Finn shifted uncomfortably. “Well… she was afraid she’d get suspended, so–”

Kurt snorted. That was _so_ typical. “Right. Can we change the subject?”

 

  
When Kurt picked up his phone to call Blaine that night, he had twelve unanswered calls and five text messages from Rachel. He deleted them all without looking.

 

  
Blaine was relieved to see Kurt calmer the next morning. He looked exhausted, but he held his head high and took Blaine’s hand as soon as they met in the parking lot twenty minutes before classes. That was definitely an improvement over the fragile, carefully held together façade Blaine had seen since that conversation in the principal’s office.

Last night, they had talked on the phone until well after 2 a.m. Well, mostly Kurt talked, about everything, words spilling out of him like a free-flowing river once a dam was removed. He spoke of the betrayal and anger at Rachel, no matter what her intentions had been, of the hopelessness he felt about his prospects of being accepted to NYADA now, and how much it hurt after he’d let himself believe, for a moment, that he had a chance. He told Blaine about his guilt that he wasn’t able to feel fully, honestly happy for his father’s victory right now, even though he felt immensely proud of him.

Blaine hadn’t spoken much – he knew Kurt didn’t need him to; he just needed to get it all out. So Blaine had listened and hummed his comfort and encouragement when needed, for hours, right until he’d fallen asleep on the phone, Kurt’s soft voice in his ear spinning beautiful tales of the two of them in New York two years from now, together in a shoebox apartment somewhere, happy with their love and their dreams, and the future wide open.

He felt a little ashamed about dozing off now. He knew Kurt didn’t mind, but still, it felt like he should have been there for his boyfriend as long as he was needed, and instead he’d given in to something as prosaic as sleepiness. But he was here now and he intended to be the best, most attentive boyfriend imaginable.

His efforts were somewhat sidetracked as soon as they entered the school, though.

It was still early, but there was a little crowd gathering around the nearest bank of lockers, people staring curiously at the scene unfolding before their eyes. Kurt stopped in his tracks when they passed the onlookers blocking the view.

In front of her open locker stood Mercedes, looking gorgeous in a black short-sleeved dress with her hair flowing freely down her back. She had a look of utter bewilderment on her face. At her feet, with a bouquet of red roses, knelt Sam Evans. It was the first time Blaine had seen him since his rather abrupt move to another state with his family right before the school year started.

Sam spoke, loud and clear, his eyes focused on Mercedes.

“I already knew we were meant for each other when we dated in the summer.” Blaine looked at Kurt. They had dated? It was news to him. Kurt shrugged, arching his eyebrows in surprise. “I know you didn’t want a long-distance relationship, and it broke my heart to leave you, even if I didn’t have a choice. But something happened last night, and I’m here to tell you that if you give me a chance, I’m gonna do everything in my power to make you happy. I’ll find a way to come back here, I’ll make it happen because–” Sam reached up and pushed away the left side of his half-unbuttoned shirt. Mercedes gasped and covered her mouth. On Sam’s chest, right over his heart, in large, flowing script, was her name.

“I know you believe in soulmates,” Sam said. “And I do, too. I never needed a mark to tell me you’re the one, but here it is, and when I saw it last night, I just had to jump in the car and come here.” Mercedes still hadn’t said a thing, clearly overwhelmed, and Sam seemed to falter, shifting awkwardly on his knees. “Of course, if you don’t want me to– Or if there’s someone else, or–”

Slowly, as if in a dream, Mercedes reached to the right sleeve of her dress and pulled it up.

Her mark was darker than any of theirs, nearly black, so that it stood out clearly against her skin. _Sam Evans_. Sam sprang to his feet and pulled her into a hug.

Within minutes, half of the Glee club surrounded them, talking, hugging, congratulating, and Blaine was swept into the excitement. He’d never been very close with Sam, but he was happy for both him and Mercedes. They couldn’t stop holding hands now, and Blaine remembered that first intoxicating rush of his body recognizing his soulmate, the touch that suddenly felt like it never had before. It still felt that way, it never lost its thrill, but he was used to it now. He couldn’t imagine how Sam would be able to go back to Kentucky this afternoon and leave his soulmate behind, unable to return for days, maybe weeks.

Although maybe he wouldn’t have to. Finn and Rachel were already planning away, together for once, plotting ways to get Sam back to McKinley. And as much as Blaine resented Rachel right now, he knew she would do anything for their Glee club.

 

  
He wasn’t sure how they managed to swing it, but a week later, Sam was back. He was living in the Hummels’ guest room for now, and got immediately involved in their Sectionals preparations. Not that Blaine minded. Everyone who could help them win was more than welcome, especially now that Rachel was off the team for the competition.

It felt a little weird not to be the leader though. Things were done a lot differently here than they had been at Dalton. There was a whole lot of chaos involved, and it required quite a bit of adjustment from Blaine. He kept biting his tongue to stop himself from forcing his expertise on them – he was the new guy, after all, even if he actually happened to be the most experienced Glee leader currently available – but it got done. It didn’t hurt that Finn was much more civil to him already. Together, they managed to whip their performance into a piece of art, fully deserving of the first place and standing ovation that they got at the end of the day.

Even the fact that Sebastian was in the audience along with a few other Warblers wasn’t able to ruin Blaine’s mood. He just ignored him. They’d won. They’d been fantastic, and Blaine felt intoxicated with it, full of bubbly, effervescent _joy_ as they left the stage and piled into the green room. It felt amazing to be a part of this group on the cusp of something bigger, and the chaotic, giddy atmosphere, so different from the Warblers’ contained celebrations, was heady. He grabbed Kurt and twirled him around the room, unable to contain his happiness.

This was it. This was what he changed the schools for. This was where he belonged.  


	27. Chapter 27

Kurt was sitting at his vanity, completing his evening routine and thinking about the full, amazing day he’d had.

Playing house with Blaine in their “Swiss chalet” – dancing and singing and looking at each other with open affection – had left him warm and happy, and absolutely sure that this was what their future would look like, a few years from now. Singing at the homeless shelter afterwards, getting to see the way music just lit people up, added that special something to the evening, no matter the circumstances. And there was that one boy there, maybe twelve, who’d looked at their joined hands with the kind of awe and hope that tugged at Kurt’s heartstrings.

He smiled, unbuttoning his shirt to change into his pajamas. It was almost Christmas and after today, he really felt the spirit of it.

Almost Christmas… Kurt’s hand froze, fingers sliding to his left collarbone, pushing the fabric aside. Was it…? He did a quick calculation and grabbed for his phone.

“Happy anniversary!” he said as soon as Blaine picked up. “I can’t believe I forgot.”

“Huh? Our anniversary isn’t until March, Kurt.”

Kurt grinned. “Happy _mark_ anniversary!”

He could hear Blaine gasp on the other end. “Oh. Ooh! Wait, mine didn’t appear until two days _after_ Christmas. So this is when yours–”

“To the day,” Kurt said. “Well, to the day since I saw the beginning of it. The whole name came up overnight.”

“Wow, a year already,” Blaine mused, his voiced laced with a smile. “And so much has changed since then. How do we celebrate?”

Kurt was already planning away. “How about a day in Columbus, right after Christmas? I could take you skating, but only if you promise not to laugh at me if I suck, I haven’t skated in years. And then dinner somewhere that isn’t Breadstix?”

 “Sounds great.”

It _was_ great. They had late lunch at a place they’d chosen on a whim and enjoyed immensely, and then headed to the ice rink where Blaine proceeded to glide effortlessly around, catching Kurt before he managed to fall more time that Kurt cared to count, and not laughing at him at all. They did some window shopping – and okay, a little bit of actual shopping, too, because who can resist a good sale? They ate romantic dinner at a restaurant neither of them could really afford, but the credit card Blaine’s mom had slipped him allowed.

The city sparkled with fresh snow and Christmas lights as they walked afterwards, hand in gloved hand, thrilled with that little bit of freedom. If Kurt didn’t think too much, he could almost imagine that the future was now, that they were out of Lima for good, dreaming big and building their lives together in a place where they could be themselves. The fact that he had to say goodnight to Blaine at his parents' doorstep a few hours later and head home alone burst that illusion pretty effectively though.

Still, it was wonderful. Being with Blaine, having him as a soulmate, days like this… Kurt felt like he almost wouldn’t mind if he didn’t get into NYADA next year, just so that he could keep this easy happiness.

New Year’s was a New-Directions-only affair this year, filled with too much cheap champagne and the silliest choices of karaoke songs, and the unspoken knowledge that it was the last one to be all together like this. Next year, half of them may not even be in Lima, and even though no one said it out loud, the couples among them – three of them marked as soulmates by now – clung a little tighter, kissed a little more desperately.

This coming year would change everything.

But for now, they still had one another, and the rest of the school year, and they intended to make the best of it. They started the new year with new energy, determined to take Regionals by storm and take their best shot at the National trophy. After a rather terrible beginning of the school year, things were finally looking up.

Even Sebastian stopped bothering them. The picture of his mark and his claim that he was Blaine’s soulmate were still on Facebook, annoying as ever, but neither Kurt nor Blaine had seen or heard from him since Sectionals. With every passing day, Blaine was calmer and more relaxed, until the whole thing seemed like a bad dream, ready to be forgotten.

Not for long.

 

They were sitting in the Lima Bean with Santana, Artie and Puck, discussing their setlist for Regionals – they’d decided to continue their lucky Jackson streak since it had brought them such success at Sectionals – when a familiar face with a familiar sleazy smile hovered over their table.

“That may not be the best idea,” Sebastian said. “Hey Blaine. Hello everyone else.”

Kurt nearly choked on his coffee. “Does he live here or something?” he asked no one in particular. “Seriously, you’re always here.”

But Artie already took the bait. “Why don’t you think it’s a good idea?”

“Because we’re doing MJ for Regionals. You see, the Warblers drew first position, so as soon as I heard what your plan was, I changed our setlist accordingly.”

“I’m sorry, how did you hear?” Santana asked, incredulous.

“Read your conversation on Blaine’s wall on Facebook, of course. A lot of the Warblers are still friends with Blaine, myself included.” He paused for effect while Santana and Puck glared at Blaine, then added, “Well, I am more than that, even though Blaine still refuses to acknowledge it.” He stroked his marked hand and Blaine, already looking chastised under his friends’ scowls, curled tighter on himself and folded his arms over his chest. 

Sebastian grinned and looked around at all of them. “Here’s what you guys should know. I am captain of the Warblers now, and I’m tired of playing nice.”

 

The underground parking lot was dark and empty, just as Puck said it would be. Kurt had had his doubts about this whole “taking it to the streets” thing, but he had to admit their little group looked pretty badass, dressed in black and with an attitude to boot. The Warblers, with their private school boy attire and private school boy mindset, had no chance to win this Jackson-off.

He saw Sebastian’s sudden movement and a glimpse of red a split second before he was roughly pushed aside.

Then the world exploded in pain.

It only took Kurt a few confused seconds to realize that he wasn’t hurt. The pain was weird, not localized anywhere, just sweeping through his head in an already fading wave, and the scream ringing in his ears wasn’t his, either. He was down on his knees on the dirty concrete, reaching for Blaine’s curled form even before he managed to disentangle their feelings.

The last thing he saw before the rest of their friends reacted and spun into action around them was Sebastian’s satisfied smirk as he strode away behind the rest of the Warblers.

 

It hurt.

Granted, he wasn’t in agony like Blaine, but the persistent ache never left Kurt’s head as they drove to the hospital and waited for a doctor. There was no way to shield himself from it, and the fact that Blaine was absolutely freaking out with pain and terror was even worse, sending ripples of empathy through Kurt’s mind. Most of all, though, it hurt to see his boyfriend suffer and not be able to do anything to help. Kurt tried sharing calming thoughts, but Blaine seemed beyond that – even with all the focus Kurt could manage, his signals did nothing to affect Blaine. By the time the doctor finally came – barely fifteen minutes after the slushie, but it felt like hours had passed – Kurt was nearly in tears.

“Please help him,” he pleaded, as the kind-looking doctor entered the examination room. “He’s panicking, and the pain is getting worse by the minute. Please _do_ something.”

She glanced at him curiously, then nodded. “We’ll take good care of him, I promise, but you have to let us do our job. Wait outside and call your friend’s parents while I examine him,” she said firmly.

“My boyfriend’s,” Kurt corrected automatically. Thankfully, she didn’t frown. “Yes, of course. Just–”

“He’ll be fine.”

Even out in the waiting room, Kurt knew exactly when they gave Blaine something – the ache in his head subsided into nothing within minutes and soon a feeling of calm followed, leaving only his own anxious thoughts to deal with as he waited with Finn and Santana for Blaine’s mom to arrive.

 

Kurt had known already that Blaine was an adorable, cuddly drunk, but Blaine on painkillers turned out to be a whole new experience.

“Kurt Hummel, NYADA finalist!” He exclaimed as soon as Kurt entered his bedroom two days after the slushie incident. “I told you you would get in.”

Kurt grinned and leaned in for a quick kiss. So his dad had called Blaine already with the news.

“I’m not in yet, it’s only the first step,” Kurt reminded him, but it was perfunctory at best. He was still buzzing with excitement himself.

“Oh shush. You’re a fiiiiiinalist,” Blaine trilled in a singsong voice, his smile so wide it was almost manic. He looked loose and relaxed on the bed, in a way Kurt already knew meant he’d taken his pain meds not long ago. “I say we celebrate. No champagne, but I have sparkling cider,” Blaine said and reached for the bottle on his nightstand, missing by a mile. “Oops. Perspective is hard.” He giggled.

Kurt sat down on the edge of the bed and took the bottle to fill the two champagne flutes. He passed one to Blaine.

“To NYADA then?” He smiled, raising the other one.

Blaine shook his head. “To my future husband who is about to take New York by storm.”

Kurt managed to choke on air. “What?” he asked once he could breathe again.

Blaine just shrugged his shoulders. “What? It’s only a matter of time. Now, let me see the letter? Please?”

Kurt didn’t point out that reading with the eyepatch made Blaine’s head hurt – he was still too busy regaining his balance. Instead, he pulled the envelope from his bag and passed it to Blaine, who squinted at the official note.

“I told you that you could do it.” He grinned, returning it to Kurt. “Yaaaaaay!”

Kurt laughed. Blaine was adorable.

“And you know what?” Blaine added in what he probably imagined was a conspiratorial tone. “My mom’s not home.”

Kurt stifled a laugh. “I know, silly, that’s why I’m staying with you for the next five hours, remember?”

“We can have sex,” Blaine said in a stage whisper. He reached for Kurt’s hand, managing to grab it on the second try.

Kurt squeezed in response, but shook his head. “Nuh-uh. Not when you’re loopy like this.”

“Am not!” Blaine exclaimed, indignant.

“Right. I know how the meds affect you, sweetie. We can have sex when you’re not all drugged up.”

“But Kuuurt,” Blaine whined. “I want it _now_.” To prove his point, Blaine tugged Kurt’s hand into his lap where a definite bulge was clearly noticeable even through his blanket.

Kurt gasped, but withdrew his hand. “Not like this, honey. How about I read to you? I brought some magazines. Or we could cuddle, how about that?”

Blaine pouted. “Fine, if you don’t want to help me, I’ll have to help myself.” He pushed the blanket off his lap.

Kurt’s eyes widened. “What are you doing?”

“Masturbating,” Blaine announced happily, pushing his pajama pants down. His cock sprang free, hard and pink, and Blaine squeezed it with a contented sigh.

Kurt groaned.

“You can watch if you don’t want to play,” Blaine allowed regally, and closed his uncovered eye as he started stroking himself in earnest, not wasting any time on teasing.

Kurt had already noticed how much more sensitive Blaine was under the influence of his meds. They were the strong, prescription kind that kept the pain of his scratched cornea at bay until it could be fixed, and they seemed to intensify both Blaine’s own emotions and his responsiveness to even the smallest changes in _Kurt’s_ mood.

Now it seemed that emotions were not the only thing Blaine was more sensitive to.

It took no time at all – just a dozen slow, fluid strokes – for Blaine to start moaning softly, his head thrown back and the first beads of sweat gathering along his hairline. Kurt stifled a whimper. Blaine looked gorgeous like this, bold and unashamed, and Kurt ached to touch him, to put his mouth on him and see just how much more sensitive he was and how beautifully he would fall apart under Kurt’s care. But it didn’t feel right, not when Blaine was high on the painkillers. So instead, he watched, aching in the tight confines of his pants, as Blaine stroked himself with growing urgency, moaning and panting and whispering Kurt’s name in a breathless voice.

“I wish you would fuck me,” Blaine panted after a few minutes, his voice breaking as his hips stuttered up. “Just, stuff me full of your beautiful cock and make me take it for the longest time.”

Kurt gasped, pressing his hand to his zipper in an attempt to relieve a bit of the pressure. Blaine arched his back off the bed, his hand speeding up, but losing rhythm.

“I would just take it… and take it… and float on the pleasure. And then you’d make me c-come so hard I’d see the stars.” He whined, frustrated, chasing his climax and unable to keep up the tempo he needed. The meds were messing with his coordination. “Kuuurt,” he pleaded.

Kurt crawled onto the bed and stretched by his side, his resolution gone, sizzled to a crisp. He reached to take over the hold on Blaine’s cock and Blaine let him with a happy little sound, turning to his side so that he could snuggle his face into Kurt’s neck. He mouthed at Kurt’s throat and moaned as Kurt jerked him off, loud and unabashedly erotic, and it only took a short while until he was spilling over Kurt’s hand and the blanket, Kurt’s name like a prayer on his lips. The wave of his orgasm crashed over Kurt and took his breath away for a moment.

When he caught it back, Blaine was already out like a light.

Kurt cleaned him up with the tissues that were thankfully within reach, tucked him back into his pajama pants and pulled the blanket up over both of them. He knew Blaine hadn’t slept well since the accident, so he was all too happy to let him nap.

He must have dozed off too, comfortable in the warm cocoon and the bliss of just lying with Blaine in his arms without the usual concerns about time or people walking in on them. When he opened his eyes, it was dark outside, and the clock showed they had slept for over two hours. Kurt still felt sleepy, actually, drowsy and unsure what woke him. Then he felt Blaine tense by his side, no longer the warm puddle that Kurt fell asleep to.

Blaine was awake. And he was in pain.

It wasn’t bad yet, from what Kurt could tell, but it was enough to wake him up. He breathed with relief when Kurt touched his cheek and kissed his forehead.

“How much can you feel of what I’m feeling, these last few days?” Blaine asked. He didn’t sound high anymore, just wide awake and somber.

“I’m not affected by your meds, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“What about the pain?”

Kurt bit his lip. “Sometimes. When it gets bad for you, my head aches,” he admitted.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be, sweetie,” Kurt hurried to soothe him, seeking his eyes in the soft darkness. “It’s not your fault. How bad is it now?”

“It hurts, but not too bad. Too early for another dose anyway.”

Kurt stroked his back, wishing he could do anything to take the pain away. It shouldn’t have been Blaine’s anyway. He wasn’t the one Sebastian had wanted to slushie.

Blaine shrugged. “I’m okay, really.” He slid his hand down Kurt’s ribs to his hip, and then lower. “I’m sorry, I fell asleep and left you unsatisfied.”

Kurt caught his hand and put it over his heart instead. “That’s okay. You needed sleep. We’ll get back to it after your surgery.”

In Kurt’s back pocket, his phone vibrated with an incoming message. He took it out, squinting at the bright light. “Santana has half of New Directions in the Lima Bean and she says they could come over and entertain you if you want.”

Blaine rolled over to his back. “That’s sweet of them. But could you tell them not today? It’s… I just want you right now, is that alright?”

“Of course,” Kurt said softly. He could feel the beginnings of the ache settling behind his eyes, and if he could feel it, it had to be much worse for Blaine. It was still an hour until Blaine could take another pill. He quickly tapped out a reply and put away the phone, gathering Blaine closer again. “Do you want me to read to you? Distract you a little?”

Blaine shook his head, a tiny shift. “No. The light is bad when it hurts. Could we just stay like this?”

So they did, Kurt holding him close, stroking his tense back and wishing he could do anything more than that as he felt wave after wave of pain slowly creep into his head. Blaine seemed content to just be in his arms though, even if his breathing was getting tighter and more controlled as the minutes passed. Kurt glanced at the clock. 45 minutes left.

“I’m terrified,” Blaine admitted quietly a long while later.

Kurt hugged him closer. “I know, sweetie. But it’s gonna be alright. I googled the eye surgeon, and she’s supposed to be really good. And they said the prospects are great, didn’t they? You’ll be seeing perfectly in no time.”

“I know. It’s just… the last time I had surgery, I didn’t wake up afterwards,” Blaine said, and Kurt’s heart seemed to stutter in his chest. Right. How could he forget? “I’m just afraid it might happen again, that I won’t be able to find my way back and…” He shuddered in Kurt’s arms. “I don’t want to leave you. I don’t want to die, Kurt.”

“Come on, you won’t. You had head trauma back then, that was different. This will be a planned, routine procedure, in and out in an hour, they said. You’ll be fine.” He felt Blaine nod against his chest, but the tremor in his muscles told Kurt that his words didn’t really help at all. He pulled back, forcing Blaine to look at him. “And if you do get lost… I’ll be there to help you find your way back.”

Blaine exhaled, some of the tension leaving his face. “You promise?”

“I promise.”

 

Kurt was pacing the small waiting room, biting at his cuticles. He was alone there; Blaine’s mom had said she would come later, when Blaine was already back in his room. Kurt knew it was no use sitting here all the way through Blaine’s surgery, but there was no way he could be anywhere else right now. Even his dad got it and didn’t protest when Kurt announced he couldn’t go to school today.

By now the surgery was over; they’d told him that much when he’d bothered the nurses, unable to sit still after two hours had passed with no news. He knew he should relax and patiently wait until Blaine was out of post-op.

But something was wrong.

It was just a feeling at first, vague and flickering at the edge of his consciousness, and he’d shrugged it off as nerves. Of course he was anxious; his boyfriend had just had surgery. But after a while it started to grow clearer and more forceful, like something weak and fuzzy pawing at the inside of Kurt’s mind, and with a gasp, Kurt realized it wasn’t just his worry making him imagine things.

He ran out of the waiting room and to the nurses’ station, interrupting their conversation.

“You’ve got to let me go to him.”

The younger of the nurses, a strict-looking brunette, frowned at him. “He’s still in post-op, I already told you that you can’t visit until he’s back in a regular room.”

Kurt tightened his hands on the edge of the counter until his fingers grew white. The fluttering in his head was getting desperate. “But he’s waking up, and he’s confused and afraid. He _needs_ me there. I promised I’d be there if he needs me.”

“Young man, I assure you the doctors have everything under control,” the older nurse said. She had a soft voice, but it didn’t help Kurt at all. “We will tell you as soon as your friend is back in his room, and you can see him then.”

“Excuse me,” a doctor came over, interrupting the nurse – the same young doctor who had examined Blaine when they arrived in the ER and later turned out to be the surgeon who operated on him. “How do you know that he’s waking up?” she asked, not looking at him like he was hysterical, thank god.

Kurt yanked the neck of his sweater down to reveal Blaine’s mark. “Because we’re soulmates. I can feel his emotions, and I’m telling you, he’s terrified right now. Please let me go to him. I can help. I _promised_ him.” He made his best pleading expression – though it was Blaine’s specialty, not his.

The doctor looked at the mark on his skin, then her gaze flickered to her own wrist. Kurt’s eyes followed on instinct – a slanted, jerky _M_ peeked out from the sleeve of her white coat.

She nodded at him after a beat of hesitation. “Come on. You’ll have to change.”

***

Blaine didn’t know what was going on. He couldn’t move and his mind was sluggish, confused. He didn’t know where he was, but it felt wrong. _Something_ was wrong – the smell, the sounds, the strange feelings over his eyes and in his left hand – and he wanted to wake up, look around, call for someone, but couldn’t. His body wouldn’t listen, as if the signals from his brain got lost on the way to his muscles. He was trapped alone, inside his head, and the more he realized that, the more terrified he was. He needed out now, his heart pounding in his ears. Tears welled up in his covered eyes and it stung fiercely, a sharp flare of pain that made him want to cry out, but he only managed a weak gasp.

Then a warm hand rested on his cheek and a wave of relief washed through Blaine’s confused brain. This was familiar. This was safe.

“Hey, it’s okay, honey,” a soft voice said, the voice Blaine wanted to follow to the end of the world. “You’re in the hospital, you just had surgery, remember? Everything’s alright, it went perfectly. Your body is just a little out of it still. It will pass.”

He struggled to turn his head slightly towards the voice – Kurt’s voice, he remembered now. Already he was breathing easier, his heartbeat slowing down, gentle waves of calm entering his mind from somewhere, and he let them in freely. It was Kurt. Kurt was safe.

“Are you in pain?” another voice asked above him, a woman’s voice.

Now that the tears were no longer threatening, the stinging subsided, so Blaine tried to shake his head. This time, with enough focus, he managed a little shift on the pillow. “No,” he breathed out, relieved when his mouth and throat seemed to work. “Tired.”

“It’s okay,” the woman said. “Don’t fight the sleepiness, your body needs to work through the meds we used in surgery, it may take a little while.”

“Kurt,” Blaine managed, trying to convey everything in this one precious word.

“I’ll be right here with you,” Kurt said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Already Blaine’s head was swimming, his thoughts scattering out of his grasp, but that was okay. Kurt would keep him safe.


	28. Chapter 28

Kurt arrived at the Lima Bean ten minutes early, ordered a mocha and settled at the corner table, immediately reconsidering his choice of beverage. He didn’t really need to get more agitated from caffeine and sugar.

He’d spent the whole day in the hospital with Blaine, keeping him company as he went from post-surgery confusion back to normal, relieved that the worst was over. Blaine had to stay overnight for observation, and eventually the nurses shooed Kurt out, assuring him that with the meds Blaine had just received, he would sleep peacefully through the night. That was what Kurt counted on. He really didn’t want Blaine to feel the echoes of this particular meeting. But it was now or never.

By the time he saw the Dalton blazer standing in line at the counter, Kurt had stopped staring at his coffee and actually finished drinking it. He was playing with a sugar packet when Sebastian finally joined him at the table. The wave of loathing that swept through him at the sight of Sebastian’s fake smile was immediate and uncontrolled, so intense that he hoped Blaine wasn’t just shaken awake in his bed across town. 

“You’re late,” he said, forcing his restless fingers to keep still.

“I have better things to do than drink substandard coffee with _you_ ,” Sebastian drawled.

“And yet you’re here.”

Sebastian shrugged. “I was curious. So what is it? Did you call me to admit we won that pathetic sing-off? Because we obviously did.”

“Screw the sing-off,” Kurt spat. “Why did you do it?”

Sebastian didn’t even try to pretend he didn’t understand. “Because we could,” he said, coolly. “The guys were all for teaching you a lesson. You’d be surprised how many of them despise you for luring their fearless leader away.”

Kurt wasn’t surprised in the slightest.

“Really. How did they feel about _teaching_ Blaine, instead? Did they know you put something in that slushie?”

Sebastian ignored the last question. “Well, it’s not my fault Blaine decided to be all heroic. It’s unfortunate, really. Obviously, I wouldn’t intentionally do that to my soulmate.”

“Obviously. How do you feel today, by the way?”

That seemed to shake Sebastian off his guard, but he recovered quickly. “What? Fine. I’ll feel better when I don’t have to look at your gay face.”

“Mhm,” Kurt hummed, calmer than he thought he’d be. He reached to touch the mark on Sebastian’s hand with his pointer finger. “It’s a fake, isn’t it?”

Sebastian’s jaw bunched and he jerked his hand away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The mark. It’s fake. Do you want to know what you would have felt for the last three days if it was real? I can tell you. Pain, every time Blaine’s meds wore off. Fear. Betrayal. Confusion as he woke up after his eye surgery this morning – an eye surgery caused by your _lesson_.”

For the first time, a look of uncertainty flashed through Sebastian’s face, but it was gone in a blink. He shrugged. “Fine. Whatever. So I messed with you two a little.” He licked his thumb and rubbed over Blaine’s name on his hand; the mark smudged immediately. “I’m tired of it anyway.”

Seeing the cause of all that drama fade under nothing more than a careless swipe of a finger felt surreal.

“Why?” Kurt asked. “Why would you do something like that?”

“To get in his deliciously tight pants.” Sebastian didn’t look chastised in the slightest. “I had Blaine’s signature from an old Warblers roster, I blackmailed an artistically inclined freshman to copy it onto my hand with a marker… it was almost too easy. Pity it didn’t work. But I kept it up to piss you off, touching it up as needed.” He grinned. “ _That_ worked, didn’t it?”

Now the anger came. “How could you– Do you even know what it feels–”

“ _Please_ ,” Sebastian interrupted him coldly. “Like I believe in this crap. It’s just some fucked-up mutation.” He took one last swipe at his hand where Blaine’s name sat, faded now like an old sepia photograph, and got up. “Okay, you’ve wasted enough of my time. See you at Regionals. Good luck finding a better setlist.”

He was one step away from the table when Kurt called his name. He turned.

“What _did_ you put in that slushie?” Kurt asked.

Sebastian smirked. “Rock salt.” Then he turned away and strode to the door.

*

Blaine had been in the Dalton headmaster’s office a few times before, usually on Warbler business, but it had never felt as official and solemn as it did now.

He was sitting in a soft chair, flanked by both of his parents, his right eye still taped over with gauze and covered with a black eyepatch. Across from him, Sebastian sat ramrod-straight, his face an unreadable mask. He hadn’t looked at Blaine except for a quick glance when he entered. The chair next to Sebastian’s was empty – his father, the only parent who had accompanied him, was pacing the room.

Mr. Smythe was as tall and thin as Sebastian, with a head of thick graying hair and the sharp face of a man who was used to having authority. Blaine watched with morbid fascination as that face got harder and darker when the headmaster explained the reason he’d been summoned to school, and then played Kurt’s tape.

It was only the second time Blaine heard that tape since Kurt presented it to Blaine’s parents two days ago, and the raw anger that swept through him now was just as hot as it had been then.

Sebastian’s father stopped pacing, but he didn’t sit down. Instead, he stood by his son’s chair and looked at Blaine’s parents, his eyes glancing over Blaine as if he wasn’t there.

“Are you going to sue?” he asked simply, like a businessman inquiring about a deal.

“We are thinking about it,” Blaine’s mom said. “But we wanted to hear what you are proposing to do about it first.” His dad remained silent. He did want to sue, Blaine knew. They had argued about it all day yesterday.

“I’m sure we can negotiate some kind of settlement–”

“I’m not talking about money, Mr. Smythe. I want to know what you are going to do about your son’s unacceptable behavior.” Blaine’s mom’s voice was cold, and Mr. Smythe nodded.

“Oh, I agree that it was completely unacceptable and I can assure you it will not go unpunished.” He turned to Sebastian. “Son, do you remember what I told you would happen if you disgraced me at one more school?”

“Yes, sir.” Sebastian’s voice was completely devoid of inflection, cool and flat.

“And what was that?”

“You said you’d send me to military school.”

“And that’s exactly what I’m doing. You have gotten completely out of control. I overlooked the underage drinking and public indecency, because we have all been young once. But _violence_? That’s a dealbreaker.” Mr. Smythe turned to the headmaster who’d been observing the scene in silence. “I would like to have transfer papers prepared as soon as possible. I will pay for this month, of course, but Sebastian will no longer attend Dalton, effective immediately. I will have him at Carson Long within a week.”

The headmaster nodded curtly. “Very well. I’m sure that’s for the best. An expulsion wouldn’t look good on young Mr. Smythe’s records.” He frowned at Sebastian’s father. “We don’t tolerate violence here, as you know.”

“Of course. I appreciate your discretion.” Mr. Smythe turned from the headmaster and for the first time looked directly at Blaine. “Now, as you can imagine, I would prefer to settle the matter of my son’s reprehensible behavior out of court. So Blaine, I want to offer some sort of compensation for the suffering and distress the recent events have undoubtedly caused.”

“What do you propose?” It was Blaine’s father who asked.

“Sebastian is going to sell his car – that’s a Porsche, last year’s model. Whatever price we get at the dealer, I’m sure he will be happy to transfer to you.”

Blaine’s eyes widened. So did Sebastian’s. He was suddenly at the edge of his chair, his face pale.

“But father, you can’t–”

Mr. Smythe whipped around to face him. “I’ll tell you what I can’t. I can’t stand that my son is so spoiled and thoughtless that he thinks of hurting others as entertainment. We’ve clearly overindulged you over the years, and that ends now. Until you graduate – _with honors –_ from Carson Long next year, you have no car and no credit cards. Do we understand each other?”

Sebastian stiffened, as if fighting the instinct to snap, but then he exhaled slowly and hung his head. “Yes, sir.”

Blaine almost felt sorry for him. But then he remembered the weeks of torment when he woke up panicked almost every night because he saw Sebastian’s name blooming on his body in his dreams; days when nothing, not even Kurt’s love, made him feel safe from the threat that had been only a cruel joke all along.

He thought of the slushie that was destined for Kurt.

No, he wasn’t sorry. Sebastian had brought this on himself.

“Sir, I don’t want your money,” he said calmly. Mr. Smythe looked pleasantly surprised. Blaine raised his hand before he could reply, though. “But there are people who could use it. So I accept your offer, and I’m going to donate half of the sum to the _It Gets Better_ foundation, and the other half–” Blaine looked straight at Sebastian, “to the Glee club at McKinley High.”

If he expected a reaction from Sebastian, he was disappointed. Sebastian kept looking at his knees with an impassive expression. Oh well, he had bigger problems now than the Warblers win at Regionals. If they were permitted to participate at all. Blaine had heard that the club was temporarily suspended.

Mr. Smythe nodded. “Very well. I shall get the money to you within the week, and then I hope we can put this ugly matter behind us.”

Blaine allowed himself to space out a little as his parents discussed the details with Mr. Smythe. He felt drained, overwhelmed, and the dull ache in his head was growing – just a stress headache this time, thankfully. His eye barely gave him trouble anymore. If the afternoon check up went well, he would be returning to school next week – and not a day too soon. Because of Sebastian, he’d lost more than enough precious time with Kurt before his inevitable departure for college. But he was going to make up for it; he had plans. He just needed to be allowed back already.

The meeting finally concluded and Blaine got up along with everybody else, relieved and more than ready to leave, but Mr. Smythe’s commanding voice stopped him before he turned toward the door.

“Son, don’t you think you should say something to Blaine at least?”

Sebastian paused and looked at Blaine for the first time. The dead expression on his face shifted momentarily. He took a step forward.

“I apologize for throwing that slushie. That was thoughtless and immature, and I know it doesn’t change anything, but I truly regret doing that.”

Blaine nodded stiffly, aware of all the eyes on them. Of course Sebastian regretted it. He wouldn’t be where he was right now if he hadn’t done what he had.

Sebastian’s jaw bunched and he paused before adding, “And I’m sorry for causing trouble between you and Kurt.”

“You didn’t cause trouble between me and Kurt,” Blaine said coolly. “You caused a lot of anxiety and unnecessary stress, but Kurt and I are _soulmates_. It would take much more than your plotting to cause trouble between us.”

Sebastian’s eyes softened somehow. “I’m glad to hear that. Please extend my apology to Kurt, as well.”

“I will.” Blaine reached out a hand – his _left_ hand – and Sebastian took it, surprised. “Good luck.”

It was an immense relief to see the skin on Sebastian’s hand clear and unmarked. He’d known it would be, of course. But actually seeing it made it that much more real. It was over. Kurt was Blaine’s one and only soulmate. No more questioning that. Blaine breathed easily for the first time in weeks.

He followed his parents out of the building and to the parking lot, Mr. Smythe and Sebastian walking in tense silence a few steps in front of them. Blaine gave them one last look before getting in the car, and his eyes widened.

If he hadn’t googled the mark-concealing body stickers out of curiosity a few weeks before, he would have thought nothing of the flesh-colored band aid peeking above the collar of Mr. Smythe’s shirt.

*

Kurt sat in the choir room, feeling utterly miserable. He had promised himself so much for this year’s Valentine’s Day – the first Valentine’s Day when he wasn’t single; the last Valentine’s Day before he went to college – and now everything was ruined. Of course, it wasn’t Blaine’s fault, and they had already agreed to celebrate lavishly on the weekend instead, but that didn’t make him feel much better right now. Everyone in the whole school seemed disgustingly happy and in love. To make matters worse, the Glee theme of the week was, of course, _love_ , and Kurt had a thousand songs he wanted to sing, but the love of his life was miles away and couldn’t hear them anyway. So instead, Kurt sat apart from his obnoxiously bubbly classmates and sulked.

Even the prospect of the party Sugar was throwing that night at Breadstix didn’t help his mood. Blaine had insisted he should go, especially since Blaine had a check-up at the hospital and wouldn’t be home until late, but judging how much _fun_ Kurt was having at school today, the evening didn’t look promising. Kurt sighed and tried not to glare at Tina and Mike as they sang an adorable love song, all heart eyes and cuteness personified. Gross.

One of the cupid-dressed Cheerios peeked into the choir room in between songs, a small stack of cards in her hand. “Kurt Hummel?” she asked.

Kurt’s head snapped up. “Here.” He raised his hand and the girl floated through the room and handed him a pink envelope before rushing out.

Kurt stared at the envelope with wide eyes. There was only one person it could be from, and he opened the flap with a growing smile just as Mercedes stepped to the front of the room to sing for Sam. Inside, there was a simple, rather generic-looking card with a bouquet of tulips on the front. Kurt opened it, confused with how very un-Blaine it felt.

Scribbled inside was _Happy Valentine’s Day, Kurt!_ in an unfamiliar hand. Below, the sender’s signature made Kurt’s jaw drop with shock.

_Dave Karofsky_

There was a PS underneath, and Kurt frowned as he read it: _Could you meet me at Breadstix at 4? I want to talk to you._

The rest of the hour passed as he considered and reconsidered the best course of action. Should he go? He didn’t know what Dave wanted with him, but he had an unsettling suspicion. Dave had hinted once, last year, that he had – or used to have, at least – a bit of a crush on Kurt. Kurt had considered it to be a thing of the past, but a Valentine’s Day card and a request of a meeting on that specific day spoke for itself.

As uncomfortable as the thought made him, by the time Glee ended, Kurt decided he would go. It was only fair. Dave probably didn’t even know Kurt had a soulmate; he would tell him and let him down gently, let him know there was no chance of anything between them, ever.

_Breadstix_ was filled with frantic activity when Kurt entered, its interior almost unrecognizable under all the décor for tonight’s party. He stopped at the threshold and looked around. Sure enough, there was Dave at one of the corner tables already, half-hidden under a plastic plant. He stood up when he noticed Kurt. He was wearing a gray suit and a serious expression, and Kurt’s heart sank. Oh, it wouldn’t be easy.

“Hi, Kurt. Thank you for coming.” Dave smiled at him as soon as Kurt neared the table.

Kurt nodded. “Thank you for the card. But… I don’t really understand why you wanted to see me.”

Dave smiled wider. “I wanted you to meet Matt,” he said.

Only now did Kurt realize there was another boy seated at the table, tall and wiry in a blue button-up, with cropped dark hair and very blue eyes. Kurt took his extended hand, confused.

“Matt is my boyfriend,” Dave added, and Kurt looked at him, surprised. “Well, to be precise, he’s sort of my… soulmate?” The beaming smile on Dave’s face as he looked at the boy was something Kurt had never seen before, and with a start, he realized: Dave Karofsky was _happy_.

“Oh my god, congratulations!” he exclaimed, excited, and sat down on the free chair. “I’m so glad you’ve met your soulmate too!”

Dave settled on his chair again. “It’s only been ten days,” he said, sounding almost shy. The boy – Matt – reached for his hand over the table. “And I just… I wanted to thank you, Kurt.”

“Me?” Kurt’s eyebrows arched in confusion.

“Yes, you. See, if it wasn’t for you showing me for years, even when I didn’t want to see, how someone can be brave and open about who they are, I wouldn’t have been ready for this right now. I would have ran and hidden my mark, gotten it removed, _anything_ to seem normal.” Dave winced at his own choice of words, but spoke on. “And I would have never known how happy I could be.”

He looked at Matt again. As he squeezed Matt’s palm, Kurt noticed the dark trace of his mark right under the knuckles of Dave’s left hand, in neat, careful cursive.

“It couldn’t be more in my face, could it?” Dave said with a wry smile when he saw Kurt looking.

Kurt finally found his voice. He was strangely moved. “I’m glad you were able to take that chance though, and not hide any longer. That takes a lot of courage. And if was helpful in some small way, well, it’s good to hear that.”

“I just wanted to say thank you. And to apologize once more for all the crap I gave you all that time. I can’t tell you how sorry I am about that.”

Kurt nodded. “Apology accepted. Does Matt–?” he broke off and glanced at the boy, unsure how to ask.

“He knows. I told him all about my inglorious past. No use building a relationship on secrets, right?”

Kurt smiled, relaxing into the chair. “I agree. So how did the two of you meet?”

 

It was almost six when Kurt got home, his mood noticeably better. The party didn’t start until eight, so he had more than enough time to eat dinner and change. At least he wouldn’t be the only one going alone. Finn would keep him company.

He opened the door to his room and stopped dead in the doorway. There was a huge basket of red roses sitting on his bed with a red glittery card attached. Next to the flowers sat an adorably kitsch plushie of two white puppies on a red heart, their noses touching. He walked to the bed and picked up the card, grinning.

_I know we said we’re not celebrating today, but I couldn’t resist. I love you always, don’t ever forget that. Yours, Blaine_

Kurt let out a little squeal of delight and leaned over the flowers to breathe in their delicate fragrance. He’d been wrong. The day wasn’t ruined after all. 

 

Three hours later, Kurt was dancing slowly in Blaine’s arms. The lights were dimmed and his heart accelerated happily as Blaine brushed his lips against the side of his neck. The song ended much too soon, followed by something fast and bouncy, and Kurt pulled Blaine to the table, navigating among the dancing crowd.

“How did you do it? I thought I wouldn’t see you until tomorrow night!”

Blaine beamed at him, his eyes – both of them – clear and sparkling with joy. “I got an all clear from my doctor this afternoon, so I decided to surprise you. Sugar was more than willing to accommodate my plan, so here I am.” He pressed a quick kiss against Kurt’s cheek. “I’m good as new, I just can’t drive for a week or two, so my mom gave me a lift and arranged it with your dad so that she will pick me up in the morning.”

Kurt’s eyes widened. “You’re staying the night?”

“I’m staying the night.”

This was the best Valentine’s Day _ever._

 


End file.
